Watson's Replacement
by MaddHatter12
Summary: Not the most clever title, but it has lots of potential! Matilda desires to be more then a school teacher, and she gets that chance when old friend Watson invites her to take his place. Will she be able to handle the job, Sherlock Holmes, and her fears?
1. A Mistake?

**Please pardon this entire Sherlock Holmes fanfic if it goes horribly wrong!**

**This is my first time writing a Holmes fanfic.**

**So I'm very…new…obviously.**

**And I don't believe I'm very good at writing mystery/detective stories.**

**But I digress.**

**Also, if you think it's weird that Matilda calls him John but I, the narrator, call him Watson? It's because I find it awkward to call him John when most know him as Watson.**

**I'm also writing this story because…well…my computer crashed.**

**I just re-uploaded Microsoft Word.**

**So I'm somewhat starting anew, without forgetting about my Ghostbusters fanfic.**

"Watson, I really have no reason to be here. You have Mary. You have undoubtedly _no_ reason to bring me to the train station to pick up your friend." Holmes muttered to his friend, barely moving his lips and his head, his eyes wide-open and prepared to watch all movement around him.

Watson simply smiled and shook his head, keeping a calm look out for his friend. Mary walked on his other side, linking arms with him, her head resting happily on his shoulder. She listened to all of Holmes complaining and did nothing but smile.

"Nonsense Holmes. You know how important this is. My friend is here to replace me, for after my wedding, I will not be directly at your fingertips." He advised, talking just as quietly as Holmes was, keeping his focus on looking.

"You can be. It wouldn't be hard to work part time. Mary would understand, wouldn't you?" Holmes asked, gesturing to Mary who simply took in a breath and let it out slowly.

Both Mary and Watson shook their heads.

"No Holmes." They said sternly.

After another minute of searching, they came to stop so Watson would be able to stand up straight and crane his neck, looking for the familiar face. The friend he had called was a dear one, one from his childhood whom he had lost contact with while in high school when she went to study in Salisbury. She wanted to be a doctor like him, but that wasn't even a capable idea when her mother wanted her to be a teacher. And so, now, she technically was. If Holmes didn't approve of her, she already had a class schedule set up for the following fall.

"Do you see her yet dear?" Mary called out over the whistle of a train.

"Not quite yet!" he replied.

Holmes sucked in a pocket of air through his nose and looked around over his shoulders, like he was expecting to magically find this mystery woman. But he wasn't searching for her. He wasn't even searching for anything. And Watson knew it.

"You know, Holmes, you could be useful and actually search for her."

There was no reply from Holmes, just another scream from a train and a yell from a porter. Holmes continued to turn in a slow circle, looking over the heads of the crowd.

Watson cursed under his breath and shook his head.

"I just cannot spot her. Let us go to the ticket booth. We'll probably find her around there." He explained as he stood flat on his feet, the arch of his feet aching from him standing on his tiptoes. Mary nodded and took his arm smoothly with her gloved hands.

When they began to walk away though, Holmes did not follow. On the contrary, he began to follow after a woman. One who looked rather familiar to him, at least when her back was turned to him. He'd only ever watched one woman really walk away from him.

She wore a dark purple dress, ruffled, striped, with a black hat. The way she walked seemed so familiar to him that he couldn't help but follow her. It must've been her.

_Irene…_ he thought to himself, pushing against the waves of people that came at him.

"Excuse me—pardon me—let me get through, please!" he grumbled, keeping his eyes on the back of "Irene's" head. He suddenly reached a break in the crowd and he rushed forward after the woman. He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Irene—" he began, but the woman turned around, and was nowhere close to being Irene.

She stared at him oddly, her brows lowering in confusion as his eyes darted around her face. Her green eyes showed that she was frightened by him, and Holmes couldn't understand why he had made the mistake of not noticing the woman's honey colored curls that trailer down her shoulder-blades. Her arms were curled up to her chest as Holmes' hand slid down to her elbow.

"Oh—I—I'm sorry madam…." He muttered slowly letting her go.

She looked him up and down.

"It…it's alright." She replied quietly as his hand fell to his sides, his face showing _his_ confusion. Her head hesitantly turned back towards her destination and she took slow strides away from him carrying a thin bag, which had papers sticking out it. He ran his hand through his hair as he stared at her bag and jerked his around and around to look for Watson and Mary.

If you had asked him, he wouldn't have been able to tell you why he thought it was Irene. He knew that she wouldn't come back to him; to tease him maybe; he had not seen her, not after she had run off with the mysterious Professor Moriarty. Something about the Professor and Irene were eating away at him, like he had let something important getting away. Whether that feeling was towards Professor Moriarty or to Irene he didn't know. He wanted to forget about his mistake as soon as possible though.

"…Ticket booth…ticket booth." He mumbled to himself, scanning the crowd once again until he remembered where Watson had said they should've gone. He strategically moved through the crowd again towards the ticket booth where there was a big open space for people to line up at the ticket windows.

He saw the back of Watson's suit and the back of Mary's dress as well. He walked over to them calmly and stood there silently as if he was never gone.

"Have you found your friend yet?" he called and Watson stayed silent for a moment, squinting into the distance.

"I believe so." He suddenly smiled and he hopped down from a crate he had been standing on.

He lifted his hands to cup around his mouth to let his voice echo as he called out her name; "MATILDA!"

Mary climbed onto the box and began to spin around, searching for Matilda.

"What does she look like again?" Mary asked, calling down to Watson.

"She has…uh…hair like yours. Goldish—honey almost!" he explained and Holmes copied Mary's movements, spinning slowly.

He thought he might as well look. If Watson was so desperate to find her, and if he was so desperate to get Holmes a new assistant, he wouldn't want this trip to go to waste.

"MATILDA!" Watson called even louder then before in a certain direction, causing Holmes to look over his shoulder at him before looking out into the crowd. He began to turn away when something caught his eye and he double taked.

The crowd was suddenly moving apart as someone seemed to be pushing through frantically, as Holmes had been doing before when he had seen "Irene".

"JOHN? JOHNATHAN!" the person called, raising a purple and black striped arm up above the crowd, waving it around. Watson raised his own hands into the air and Mary pointed into the crowd exclaiming, "I see her darling!"

The crowd finally split open into the ticket booth bubble and Matilda rushed passed Holmes so she could drop her bag to the ground and wrap her arms around Watson's neck. Watson let out a gasp and a laugh as Mary helped herself off the crate, not bothering to ask Holmes for help.

"Oh John! Oh it's wonderful to see you!" Matilda squealed as the two friends unwrapped their arms from one another and she stared into his eyes. Watson laughed and nodded.

"The feeling is mutual!" he laughed, as she looked him up and down.

"And look at you! Look how straight and narrow you're dressed!" she giggled tugging at his jacket. Watson smoothed it down and grinned.

"I need to dress professionally, as always. Oh—Matilda, this is…my fiancé. Mary." He said suddenly, moving out of the way so he could gesture to Mary, staring longingly at her. She just smiled sweetly and advanced towards her fiancé and his friend.

She held out her arms and ran to Matilda and brought her into a hug, which Matilda gladly accepted.

"It's so nice to finally meet you." Mary muttered into her ear and Matilda smiled.

"I feel the same! John, look at her! She's just as beautiful as you described her!" Matilda grinned holding onto Mary's hand and spinning her around. Watson grinned.

"I've always thought so." He smiled and Mary turned slightly pink before allowing him to kiss her cheek.

They all began to chat as Holmes stared at the group blankly, his arms wrapped around his back. He lifted one hand to his mouth, his fingers curled into a fist, which he proceeded to cough into. Mary's head jolted up and she cleared her throat as well.

"Right, Matilda, this is Sherlock Holmes." She said awkwardly, taking Matilda's shoulder and turning her to Holmes.

Holmes quirked a brow as he was met with the same green eyes he had stared into before. He had wondered why her dress seemed so familiar. Matilda's smile slightly fell when she looked straight into his eyes. She reached up for her hat and slipped it off of her head; letting some long curls fall to her shoulders. Her hair was tied back so it wasn't encompassing her face.

"Good morning Mr. Holmes…did you find the woman you were looking for?" she asked, not keeping direct eye contact with him.

Watson looked from Matilda to Holmes, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Mary did the same, minus the suspicion in her eyes. Holmes didn't keep eye contact either, looking around awkwardly.

"I was not looking for a woman. I had just happened to mistake you for someone I knew." He explained, his eyes peering up at the sky and partial faded glass ceiling of the ticket booth.

She just smirked and nodded, shrugging as she said, "Well, now you know me."

He humored her and starkly smirked back, nodding his head once.

"Yes. But if I had been searching for someone, I would not have so easily mistaken you for her. Unlike you, she would never be a teacher." He said confidently.

Eyes widened, Matilda turned to Watson and he looked at her worriedly. She looked back at Watson, squinting at him as well.

"…John told you, didn't he? That I was a teacher?" she asked and Holmes shook his head.

"No madam. You have papers sticking out of your bag. From the bit that I saw, there were names on it. I know it is the name of children because the names have either a five or a six next to their name. Seeing as how the numbers are in no particular order, it must be their age. Also, one paper lists off the name of children's books. One could easily deduce that they are meant for a teacher to read to her students. No parent would make a list of children's books for their child." He explained, motioning to her bag, which lay askew on the ground.

Her eyes, along with her head, followed his motion. After staring at her bag for a moment, she looked back up at him.

"Of course."

Watson reached out and touched Matilda's shoulder.

"Matilda…have you two met? Who is this woman you were talking about?" he asked, peering over at Holmes. Holmes just looked away fervently, catching Matilda's attention.

Holmes made no attempt to look back at the two and Watson directed his gaze at Matilda, boring into her cheek as she stared Holmes. Her head swiveled back to face Watson and she nodded.

"We did meet. But only a moment before I found you. He mistook me for a girl named…." She hesitated. She looked back to Holmes who was completely turned away from everyone, facing the crowd.

"…Julia…yes, Julia. Someone he must've met on a case." She nodded, cautiously turning back to Watson who examined her face.

After looking between Matilda and Holmes, who had turned back, to look at Matilda oddly, he stood up straight and nodded curtly, sticking out his arm for Mary to take.

"I guess you're right. You must have us meet this Julia at some time Holmes, especially if you're mistaking people for her." He said stiffly, buttoning up his jacket and placing his own hat atop his head.

Matilda lifted her hat and arranged it snugly on her head as well and went to gather her things beside Holmes. He watched as she scurried to his side and began collecting her things. Watson and Mary had found a crack in the crowd and had walked through.

Holmes tilted his head to watch for them as he called, "don't leave us behind!"

Watson lifted his hand into the air, "Walk her back to the carriage, you know the way. Gives you two time to chat amongst yourselves about JULIA." He called and Matilda stood up straight, trying to peer through a few curls that had fallen in front of her face. She blew them out of the way and turned to Holmes, standing up straight.

His eyes simply peered at her from his peripheral vision and she sucked in a breath, turning to look at the way that Watson and Mary had gone. Letting out the breath, she planted a smile on her face and looked back at Holmes.

Her hand shot forward in his direction and he looked at it unimpressed.

"I look forward to working with you!" she said sweetly and he continued to stare at her hand. He looked away from it and walked in the direction that Watson and Mary had left.

With her hand floating in the air for no reason, she curled her fingers into a fist and dropped her hand to her side. She just nodded and hurried after him, trying to walk next to him so they would be able to talk.

"Excuse me—Mr. Holmes—is there…some sort of problem? I just arrived and yet there seems to be a riff in our kindling relationship." She asked, partly out of breath.

His eyes peered at her again and he shook his head as he stared forward once more.

"No, no. I just feel uncomfortable replacing Watson so soon."

Matilda narrowed her eyes at him. "Does this have to do with that Irene girl?" she asked and Holmes' jaw tensed, as if he was gritting his teeth.

No answer came from him. Matilda accepted it with a nod.

"He's mentioned her, John has. In the letters we've been sending since you finished the Blackwood case. The only woman who ever seemed to outsmart you she did." She described, trying to think back on the letters.

"I don't believe Ms. Adler has anything to do with our meeting, or your hiring. I don't believe I really know why Watson contacted you. He's perfectly capable of working with me and keeping a good family lifestyle at home." He said matter-of-factly and Matilda's eyebrows furrowed. She let out an incredulous chuckle.

"Don't you…don't you think that was somewhat of an insult? I traveled here from Salisbury to work for you. I have some knowledge of medical work and I pay much attention to the details of things. I came up here for the opportunity of working with a genius like you and you just throw the idea away because…because you're clinging to your friend?" she chuckled, her voice raising and tone getting more and more frustrated.

Holmes stopped and turned to her, prompting her to look up at him and stare at him oddly.

"It was meant to be an insult, because I don't need you. Your trip here from Salisbury has been wasted because none of you decided to consult me on such a decision as to bring you here to work for _me_. And yes, you may have some knowledge of medical work, but I don't find it reasonable enough to hire you, seeing as how the knowledge you've obtained is from books, evident from your paper cuts and the large medical text-book you have stowed away in your bag. And maybe you did come for an opportunity. But that opportunity is most definitely not with me. I don't throw away the idea because I'm clinging onto Watson, but because I find the idea of a woman working in the consultant detective industry absolutely ludicrous. Mary can't even handle seeing a dead body in the paper." He explained, leaving Matilda to just stare at him slightly intimidated.

She paused for a moment, to think. She then began with another pause; her mouth wide open.

"…You are also clinging onto John. I know that for certain."

"That's because he is a dearest friend of mine. I would not like to lose his company because he has found a significant other." He said simply, continuing to walk towards the carriage parked outside the train station. Matilda caught up with him again.

"He's my friend as well! He was mine first!" she said desperately, feeling flustered by one crack after another.

"That has no concern to me. As far as I know, you just left him to finish high school with no one else to talk with him, leaving him to come and cry to me. No friend does that to another." He laughed, trying not to smile.

Matilda glared at him, "And so you're taking this out on him? Mr. Holmes he'll still be there! I'll just be the one following you around more often!" she shrugged.

He let out another laugh.

"Oh, how splendid. Just what I needed."

She let out a great huff and stuck her finger in his face, pointing at him menacingly.

"Don't start that with me! I am a respectable woman, trying to earn a living for herself, and being a teacher just isn't cutting it! I don't know how to explain how desperate I am to work with you and possibly with John. I'm quite useful! I have a great memory for names and for sounds or conversations!" she made sure to point out, trying to sound positive and confident with herself.

Holmes quirked a brow and nodded, "Duly noted."

They made it to the carriage and Matilda grabbed his shoulder to stop him. He turned to face her and stared down at her indifferently.

"Please Mr. Holmes. I feel as though I have the potential to be great. And you can help me be the greatest that I can be. What can I do to impress you and let you know I'm serious?"

He paused to think. He actually had to think about an answer for her question. It had to be something that seemed impossible for her to do, he was sure of that. He smiled and nodded in the direction of the carriage.

"Help me convince Watson that Mary is not right for him." He stated, suddenly realizing that that was more of a dare then something to impress him.

Matilda stared at him blankly before rolling her eyes.

"Oh…right…because that worked _so_ well the first time around." She grumbled, walking to the carriage and leaving him to stand there, causing the others to get impatient.

_This is _NOT_ going to be an easy adjustment._ He thought to himself as he also climbed into the carriage, most unhappily.


	2. Really? Spiders?

**Luckily you guys enjoyed the first chapter.**

**That just makes me ecstatic, because I feel that the first chapter wasn't what it could've been.**

**It could've been better, but it was acceptable for the first attempt.**

**But at school, I received a tidal wave of Author + Story favorites in my email.**

**I was overwhelmed.**

**It was wonderful, thank you.**

The carriage ride was silent. For the most part.

There was the constant muffled sound of the pedestrians outside of the carriage and the steady beat of the horses shoes hitting the pavement.

Out of the four passengers though, only two of them were really enjoying the silence. Watson couldn't stand it and did his best to whisper quietly with Mary, causing her to giggle over anything he said; Holmes on the other hand had his head turned away from Matilda and they each stared out opposite windows.

Mary would eye them every once in a while and then continue to allow Watson to whisper sweet-nothings in her ear. She squeezed his hand tightly and Matilda would peek at them awkwardly, finding the affection too much to bear.

Holmes would peek as well, turning his head in their direction and then turning to look over at Matilda, checking to see her reaction to the fondness. She would do her best not to notice him.

Slowly, the whispering stopped. Mary and Watson had turned to look out the windows, surveying the scene outside pass by gradually.

The men sat directly across from one another, same with the women, each exchanging looks with the people who sat across from them. Except of course, Holmes, who just crossed one leg and rested his hands on his knees as he sniffled and cleared his throat.

Watson just shook his head, waiting for the carriage to hit a bump so he could hide his annoyance from the rest of the group.

Matilda eyed Mary, Watson and then Holmes. She smirked as they hit a bump and Watson's head shook wildly.

As if the carriage began to travel through mud, it slowly came to a stop, waiting at a corner. Mary squinted out the window and leaned closer to it, her nose practically pushing against the glass. Holmes blinked and allowed his eyes to travel her way.

Her hand shot up to the glass and she smiled. She turned to her fiancée.

"John. John, can we stop at the Saffron Hill bakery? Please? Perhaps Matilda or Holmes would enjoy a French glazed loaf?" she asked and Watson smiled.

He turned to the other two who sat there silently, staring at him blankly. He raised his brows.

"Well? What do you think? Would you like something to eat?" he asked, feeling the carriage jolt and pull forward.

Holmes rubbed his knee casually and shook his head.

"I don't have much of an appetite at the moment."

Watson nodded and turned to Matilda who just shook her head.

"No thank you. I had something to eat on the train." She muttered, smiling at him awkwardly.

Unsatisfied, Watson turned to Mary who just shrugged. She leaned forward between Holmes and Matilda and knocked on the wall.

"Driver! Pull over on Saffron Hill!….just because you two aren't hungry, doesn't mean we aren't. Come along John." She smiled as the carriage pulled to a stop. She took Watson's hand and dragged him out of the carriage.

The door shut roughly, shaking the carriage. Matilda blinked a few times and let out a sigh as Holmes lay his head back against the wall. She slowly did the same and turned her head to look at his profile.

He felt her gaze and did the same, shifting his head to feel comfortable against the hard wall. She smirked at him and shut her eyes for a moment. He just blinked.

"…I have a feeling that we will not be getting along. And you know I am right." She muttered quietly. His eyelids drooped and he tried not to smirk.

"Possibly. Depends on how the rest of the day goes."

"…and if you don't mistake me for another woman again…especially in front of John." She added, her smile widening at the thought of Holmes making another mistake. He just shook his head.

"There will be no chance of that. I assure you." He said quietly, not feeling too enthusiastic about their talk, though it did somewhat amuse him. She nodded as she answered, "I'll look forward to it."

Silence fell again and they both shifted in their seats uncomfortably. She played with her sleeves as she slid off her gloves. She then took off her hat and let it hang from her knee. Holmes examined her work like that the entire time until she finally settled comfortably in her seat.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his hands together. Matilda lay her head against the wall again and turned to look at him expectantly.

"When was it that you last had a case?" she asked. He didn't answer.

"Was your last case Blackwood?" she asked again and he still didn't answer.

"Your last case with John?" she finally asked and he sat forward and turned to her.

"Is my relationship with Watson that interesting to you that you must question me about it every chance you get?" he asked suspiciously and she let out a snort.

"I've only asked you twice. And I've only known you for a short while! I'm trying to get to know you! I'm going to be working with you, so you can't expect me to start when I barely know anything about you. Besides, I know that you care about him. I do too. Why wouldn't I ask?" She defended, furrowing her brows slightly as she also sat forward.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"—YES. Yes, Blackwood was my last case with Watson. And yes, I haven't had one since." He grumbled, not raising his voice in anyway, ignoring her last question. He sounded more frustrated then anything. Matilda narrowed her eyes, seeing him as a person who didn't get easily rattled.

She sat back again and crossed her legs, crossing her arms as well to stare at him. He felt her stare but did nothing to show that he would react.

"…your working on a Professor Moriarty case." She muttered and he froze again, his jaw clenching as it did before. He shifted in his seat until he was looking at her.

"You've read today's paper. I shouldn't be surprised."

"I don't read the paper." She smirked and he rolled his eyes.

"You do. I know so because you have ink smudges on your thumbs. They are not from pens or your own writing because then you would have a pen case, which is making no impression in your bag. You, therefore, read the paper." He explained and Matilda grinned.

She shook her head.

"I read the international news section. I read about Nikola Tesla and his tesla coil. Supposed to be the next big thing." She informed him. "But, I did not read the London paper."

Holmes slightly shook his head, looking confused, "Then Watson must've told you."

Matilda smirked and lifted her hands to the sides of her mouth as if she was about to yell. She sucked in a breath and began to "yell", her voice sounding breathy.

"EXTRA! EXTRA! Lestrade hires consultant detective to search for mystery professor and his female accomplice!" she mimicked like she was news boy giving out the paper.

Holmes cringed, expecting her to yell. When she didn't he stared at her oddly when her hands fell back down to her lap and she smiled, giggling at her sudden outburst.

"…and where did you hear this?"

"A couple blocks back. When it's silent, and you really listen, you can hear anything." She said turning slightly pink as he thought back to where they were before. He didn't hear any of what she did. He smelled and saw things, but he didn't hear anything like that.

He stared at her oddly and pressed his lips together. He patted her knee and gave her a stiff smirk.

"That's nice and all. Now, let's be silent until we arrive to baker street." He muttered, purposefully whispering as if it would emphasize that he didn't want to speak aloud anymore.

Her stare bored into him and she nodded, leaning back into her seat, letting out a sigh. Otherwise it was silence and Holmes stifled a smile because they had finally finished talking for the moment. It would be even better when Watson and Mary came back, for then he and Matilda would have no reason to talk.

The couple would be making all the noise; eating their French glazed loaves.

Matilda stared at her hands, which played with her gloves on her lap. She sucked in a breath and opened her mouth for a moment, but didn't say anything. She closed it, and then opened it again. She lifted her hand, her index finger pointing upward as if to catch Holmes' attention and her mouth closed. Her mouth opened again, but then she closed it.

"You're itching to say something. If need be, say it." He warned, his voice sounding jaded and wildly bored. She kept her mouth shut and shook her head.

"Never mind. It is not important now." She said awkwardly and he shook his head.

"If you say so." He sighed.

She began to tap her foot, looking around the inside of the carriage, looking across at Watson and Mary's empty seats. She began to wonder where they were. She leaned forward and looked out the window, expecting to see them. Which she did.

They were occupied with another couple whom Mary seemed to know. She was showing them her new ring and the other couple was congratulating them.

With a frustrated sigh she sat back in her seat roughly and rolled her eyes, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Holmes eyed her suddenly, not bothering to directly look at her.

"Since you asked me a question, I shall ask you one."

"You said we musn't talk."

"That was when I thought Mary and her dog on a leash were close to arriving at the carriage. Seeing as how they haven't, we might as well try some casual chatting. Why did you move to Salisbury?" he asked quickly, believing she could keep up.

She did her best.

"Um…alright. I moved to Salisbury to live with my Aunt and Uncle. My Uncle was a professor at a college in the area and my mother wanted me to attend that one." She explained.

He nodded curtly, "Which college?"

"Wiltshire." She said just as quickly.

He nodded curtly again, "Did you always want to be a teacher?"

"No." she said simply.

He left it at that. "How long were you in touch with Watson after you left?"

"Until he met you. So only about two years. Which, looking back on it, didn't seem like that long of a time."

He left that alone as well. "Do you think you can handle working crime scenes? Finding important details, keeping note of the actions of suspects and keeping composure at sites?"

She shrugged and nodded, "I'll do my best. I have my fears, but I don't believe most of them apply to this profession."

He nodded curtly yet again, "Fears? And what fears are those?"

Her eyes searched around, as if she was trying to think or she was thinking that it was an odd question. She let out a half-scoff, half-snort at the question and drawled out a long, "UM."

He quirked a brow in expectation and she sucked in a breath and looked towards the window again, stuttering a bit at the thought of revealing of some of her fears.

"I…um…I don't particularly like—" her eyes widened when she looked at the window directly next to her head. A spider began to step it's way up the window towards the roof and she gasped.

"SPIDER!" she shrieked, pushing herself out of her seat and into Holmes lap, attempting to leave through the other side of the carriage. He let out a growl and gasp himself and the carriage started to shake back and forth.

"GAH! WOMAN!" he gasped, his voice sounding more shocked then angry. She kept screaming and pointing at the spider as it paused and held on for dear life. They could hear the driver of the carriage shifting and gasping and asking around what was going on. Pedestrians were doing the same.

"AAAAHHHH! SPIDEER! KILL IT!" she screamed pushing at his chest as if he would magically slide across and kill it. He reached out and grabbed her forearms and he began shaking her.

"CALM DOWN! STOP—STOP IT!" he warned, holding her still as she panted in his face, her hair going every which way. She looked at the window worriedly.

"Well…now I know…that you….are afraid…of spiders." He panted back through gritted teeth as the door to the carriage opened roughly and Watson poked his head in.

"What in God's name is going on?" he called, Mary peeking over his shoulder.

Matilda and Holmes turned to him, both of their faces were red from their yelling and they panted maniacally. Watson glared at Holmes.

"What the hell are you doing, Holmes?" he threatened and Holmes rolled his eyes.

"Watson, your friend here is afraid of spiders, and she decided it was best to jump across the carriage to escape." Holmes informed him, letting go of her forearms and gesturing to her. Matilda turned even more red and looked from Holmes to Watson and Mary.

"I—I'm sorry John. It….frightened me." She muttered and Watson rolled his eyes.

"Well, both of you calm down! We'll be in in a moment." He said, trying to stay serious as Holmes let out an exasperated sigh and slammed his head against the wall behind him.

Watson slammed the door and the carriage shook once more until it felt as though the entire thing froze. Matilda cleared her throat and began to slide off of his lap.

"I'm sorry…you've just had the pleasure of witnessing my most irrational fear." She panted until Holmes grabbed her forearm again and pulled her close again.

She gasped and stared into his eyes, hers wide as saucers. He narrowed his.

"After I let you go, there will be nothing but silence. No exceptions. I do not desire to know ANY more of your fears…I am positive you are afraid of heights because you struggled to keep your composure when we passed over one of the bridges on the way here. But that…is all." He explained and Matilda nodded, feeling surprisingly nervous by his rugged-ness. It gave off a vibe that he could hurt her at any moment, though he was straining it very well.

She just nodded.

"You're right." She muttered. He let her go and she fell back into her seat, staring at him. She peered at the window and cringed. Holmes rolled his eyes. He lifted his hand and smacked the window, the spider falling off.

"The spider was on the _outside_." He informed her impatiently and she let out a sigh.

Watson and Mary climbed into the carriage a few moments later and the ride was just as awkward, if not more, as before. Except now, every time Holmes sees a spider, he himself cringes.


	3. A Good Teacher

**Now it's time to get to the crime part.**

**I'll still be keeping up how Holmes and Matilda are getting to know one another?**

**But now it's time for the crime scenes to begin.**

**It's hard to think about putting together how a crime would unfold.**

**Make Moriarty believable.**

**And I want you all to know; that whenever it seems like Holmes would speak loudly? He is actually speaking quietly. Because Holmes is not a loud mouth. Quite the contrary.**

**Hope you enjoy! R & R **

Baker Street appeared in their sites and there was a collective relaxation that slid through the cracks of the carriage. Watson held onto Mary's hand gently and brought it up to his lips to kiss. Holmes didn't take his eyes off of the street beside him.

They all shifted in their seats as they felt the carriage begin to slow down, preparing to pull over in front of 221. Matilda leaned her head against the wall behind her and let out a sigh, relaxing her shoulders.

Suddenly, Watson sat forward, squinting out the window. Mary looked at him worriedly.

"Darling? What's wrong?" she asked.

Watson lifted his finger up to the glass, "Lestrade. He's outside talking with Mrs. Hudson."

Now it was Holmes' turn to sit up in his seat and push his head against the glass as the carriage pulled up next to his home. Lestrade stood on the steps with his arms crossed, Clarky and one another police man were there too, talking with Mrs. Hudson who seemed to be just nodding as they spoke.

The carriage came to a stop and Holmes wrapped his fingers around the handle of the door to push it open. Matilda and Mary pushed themselves forward so they could stare out the window at Lestrade and Clarky.

Holmes hopped out of the carriage and Matilda looked around awkwardly, pushing herself towards the open door. Holmes looked back in the carriage and double taked. He lifted his hand and pointed at Matilda.

"You. Stay. You," he said quietly, but sternly, pointing to Watson next, "Come."

Hesitantly, Watson looked at Mary and then slid out of the carriage. Mary pressed her lips together and leaned over to close the carriage door for him. Matilda sat back in her seat and rubbed the back of her hand.

Mary looked to Matilda and slightly shrugged, trying to give her a pleasant smile. Matilda gave her a smile back and sucked in a breath, staring out the window at Lestrade.

He seemed to be talking seriously, trying to mumble or mutter so then no one could hear him talk about a case. Every once in a while Holmes would peek at Watson who would look back, both looking concerned.

Matilda squinted at Lestrade, trying to block out all of the other sounds on the other side of the carriage. Mrs. Hudson stood in the middle of it all, biting her thumbnail and looking between all of the gentlemen that stood around her.

The walls of the carriage muffled everything, but Matilda heard Lestrade speaking much clearer then she was letting on; her eyes squinting and her jaw cocked.

"We think it was that Professor." He said quietly.

"Professor Moriarty." Clarky added, trying to keep him up to date.

Lestrade nodded, followed by a mimicked nod from Watson and Holmes. Lestrade opened his mouth to mutter again.

"The problem is…the body was already identified." He said, stepping closer to Holmes and Watson. Matilda quirked a brow, and slid across the seat to be closer.

Holmes nodded, "Was the victim a civilian? An important official of the city? A tourist?" he asked, deciding not to mutter.

Lestrade shook his head, "No. We were told that it was a local opium seller. Someone that had recently been bailed from prison."

Watson looked at Holmes and took a step towards him, whispering in his ear, something that Matilda couldn't hear. She tried her best to read his lips, but could only make out the words "crime ring."

The policemen looked at the detective and the doctor expectantly, waiting for them to finish their whispering. Watson pulled away from his friend's ear and stood up straight, allowing the policemen continue.

"His name was Jack Louie. He had been put in prison for breaking into a residence and assaulting the head of the household. The man was all right, but Jack was bailed out four days later by an unidentified man." Clarky explained, taking out his notepad.

Matilda quirked a brow and looked skeptical.

"Let me guess. No one saw his face?" Holmes asked, his voice sounding as though he was holding back a smile.

Clarky looked nervous and nodded.

"That…and the officers did not ask for I.D. He paid the bail in paper bills." He said closing his book and setting it back in his pocket.

The heads of the detective and doctor turned to one another and they nodded. Watson took a step forward and slightly bowed as he thanked them for the information.

"We will meet you at the crime scene." He said and Holmes nodded in agreement. Watson tipped his hat to the policemen and Holmes also did so, minus the hat.

Clarky and the policeman turned to one another as Lestrade watched Holmes and Watson, with a cold stare, climb into the carriage. Watson gently sat next to Mary and smiled at her, while Matilda shot back to her own seat, staring out the opposite window as Holmes sat in his seat carefully and shut the door behind him.

Mary gave Matilda a smirk, noticing how she was trying to listen. She then turned to her fiancée and grabbed his hand.

"So, I'm guessing we are going to a crime scene?" she asked nervously, slightly afraid of the answer.

Watson smiled, "We are. You are going home."

She nodded and smiled at him sweetly. She looked to Holmes and stared him up and down.

"You better put Matilda to good work, or else there would be no point in her being here." She smirked and Holmes smirked back stiffly.

"Oh. Well then she should almost certainly go home with you." He said sarcastically, saying it as if it was a serious suggestion. Matilda's head slowly turned to face him and her eyes slightly narrowed, barely noticeable.

Watson tried to chuckle to lighten the mood but Mary gave him a look that read, "that wasn't funny, and it never will be".

He coughed and looked out the window. The carriage had started moving and none of them had noticed. Matilda looked back out the opposite window and she crossed her legs. Holmes did the same and coughed into his fist awkwardly.

Matilda blinked a couple of times, seeming to be thinking about something. She shifted to look at Watson.

"John?"

"Hm?"

"What were you whispering to Mr. Holmes when Lestrade was speaking to you about the victim?" she asked and Watson paused before opening his mouth to speak. Holmes didn't even look at her, yet he spoke up.

"What, you didn't hear?" he teased, sounding playful, not completely sarcastic.

Matilda smirked, "I didn't get to."

Holmes shook his head slightly and Watson rubbed his hands together.

"Um. I was saying that, the victim could've been apart of a crime ring." He nodded.

Matilda pressed her lips together and mirrored his nod. Holmes blinked and rubbed his temple tiredly. Watson squeezed Mary's hand and they exchanged smiles.

"So. When you say crime ring, you mean…the crimes aren't random? Do you two think that Moriarty is some kind of criminal marionette?" she suddenly asked and Holmes nodded.

"Quite right. He can't just do things on his own; he must protect the people that make his profits. He must stay in the shadows." He muttered and Matilda thought for a moment, not bothering to ask why he didn't wonder how she knew about Moriarty's involvement.

He had silently accepted her claim that she had good and memorative hearing.

But Watson wanted to know.

"How did you know Moriarty is the suspect?"

Matilda looked around.

"Because you told me. In our letters. You two have thought that he's been up to everything. So I just assumed. Sorry." She said and Watson narrowed his eyes.

"All right."

Holmes stared at Watson all the while, examining him. Mary noticed and shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

The crime scene arrived in front of them and Watson was the first to climb out and breath in the fresh air. Mary stayed settled in her seat as Holmes jumped out and caused the carriage to shake more then before. Matilda slid across the seat and began to pull herself through the door.

Mary leaned forward and called out, "Holmes! Be a gentleman and help Matilda out of the carriage!"

She heard Holmes sigh and she saw Matilda pause in the doorway, her head towering above the top of the carriage. She heard the scuff of his shoes as he turned to face Matilda. She could partially see Holmes hold out his hand for her to take.

"May I help you out of the carriage?"

Matilda stayed silent, but set one of her hands on his shoulder to soften her blow as she hopped down to the ground. She patted his shoulder and smiled at him.

"Thank you." She sighed, staring him up and down as he pulled his shoulder out from under her hand and began to unbutton his large coat. He tossed it onto the luggage holder on the carriage and he clapped his hands together, prepared to exhume the details of the body.

They approached it slowly. It was around the corner from where they had been dropped off. They walked slow enough to allow Watson to tell the driver to take Mary home and then come back to the scene to pick them up.

Holmes sucked in a breath and let it out loudly.

"Can't you smell it Watson? The smell of blood, mixed with the smell the butcher shop across the street! How long has the victim been dead, Watson?" Holmes asked as they approached the body and Matilda's hand flew to her mouth and nose. Watson rushed to the body and examined it.

He squinted at it and then stood up straight, stuffing a utensil back into his coat pocket.

"Approximately six or seven hours." He called and Holmes nodded.

"Perfect. The cops didn't locate the body until about an hour ago. And because of the butcher shop and the location of that dumpster, the smell was well masked." Holmes pointed out, gesturing to the dark butcher shop across the street and the dumpster further up the alley.

Matilda looked in every direction that he was pointing, and her brows furrowed. She began to shake her head.

"The garbage would've been taken out earlier this morning. If I am correct. The dumpster looks very empty. And the dumpster is _behind_ the body, the smell of the garbage wouldn't affect the odor. People would still smell it AND the garbage." She shrugged, thinking about it.

Watson nodded.

"She has a point, Holmes. But he has the right idea. The area we're in has many factors that could attribute to the hiding of the bodies smell."

Holmes didn't let the new opinions affect his determination, and he bent over next to the body and took a big whiff. He stared up at the sky, pondering something.

He stood up straight and walked past Matilda and motioned to Watson to follow him. Watson hesitantly followed him to the end of the alleyway and they began to mutter to one another. Matilda took a few steps closer to listen.

"The body was put here a short while before the police arrived." He said quietly.

Watson looked at him uncertainly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. The body's odor is strong, but only because it's been mixed with the garbage scent. The actual body has a very low odor. The body must've been placed there."

"But why? Do you think it was a dumping?"

"I believe that the killer wanted it to be found."

Watson squinted at him, "I can understand that. Moriarty wanting to get your attention and all."

"And if it was a dumping, the body would be more sprawled…." They both turned to look over their shoulders at the body. Matilda turned away from them, acting like she was just standing there surveying everything.

They turned away from the body and continued to mutter.

"If it was dumped, the legs would be dangling in every direction, the arms would be twisted around the body and there would actually be a pool of blood under the body." Holmes continued. Watson took another at the body and nodded.

"You're right. How could the police _not_ have noticed that?"

"Someone must've failed to mention it! Who was the first on the scene?" Matilda finally piped up. Watson spun around in surprise.

"You heard us?" he asked and Holmes flattened down his exotically designed gray waist coast, rolling up his sleeves.

"John you weren't exactly whispering." She laughed.

Watson shook his head, looking rather confused. He turned to Holmes, "Why were we being so secretive about that?"

Holmes shrugged.

"Force of habit." He replied and walked past Matilda to look at the body again. He knelt down next to it and squinted at the man's chest.

He wagged his fingers over his shoulder. Both Matilda and Watson noticed and gave one another a look. They slowly walked over to the body and Matilda bent over to look over Holmes' shoulder. He looked over the same shoulder and began to mutter to her instead, not noticing that she wasn't Watson.

"You see, the blood stains on his shirt are falling horizontally, as if he fell to his side after he was shot. And the blood travels all the way across and even seeps through his sleeve." He pointed out like a teacher to a student, motioning to a stick that sat a foot away from him. Matilda picked it up and gave it to him.

He pushed at the thick coat with the stick, moving it out of the way and nodded towards the red stains traveling across the mans sleeve. Matilda nodded.

"Impressive. But what does that have to do with anything?"

Holmes pointed at her, smirking, waiting for her to ask that question. He stood up and walked around the body and pushed the body off of it's back. He pulled at the back of the coat so they could look down into it. The blood had traveled across the back of the body, horizontally, from where the bullet had exited the body.

"He lost a lot of blood. Which means that it most likely pooled below him where he was actually killed." He said, knowing he didn't need to inform her.

He stood up and led her around the body again after he set it down carefully. He pointed at the doused sleeve of the victim, pointing at some gray scuffmarks.

"Anyone will notice that this man is big boned. And because he is big boned, he cannot be physically picked up off the ground by a group of small men. So—"

"So he was dragged." Matilda finished and Holmes nodded.

"Precisely. So. We need to find a place where there are blood skids along the ground." He said simply, throwing the stick down the alley and brushing off his hands and beginning to walk towards the street again. Matilda quirked a brow.

"That's quite a broad search isn't it? That could be anywhere." She shrugged.

Holmes turned to face her and Watson, who was watching the entire even take place. Holmes lifted his finger and wagged it at them.

"That is where you are wrong. The soil in the scuffs on his coat is different then the soil lying in the alleyway. We must find a match. Ask the police to collect a sample, and we'll be off on the search tomorrow. Come along you two." He called, continuing his way out of the alleyway.

Matilda looked at Watson who smiled and set his hand on her back to lead her along. As they exited the alleyway, both of them said goodbye to Clarky who had sent in a small officer to collect the soil sample.

The carriage had pulled up right as they made it to the end of the edge of the sidewalk. Holmes retrieved his coat from the luggage holder and slipped it on. He opened the carriage door and held it open for the two of them.

Watson led Matilda ahead of him and helped her into the carriage. He paused and Holmes took it as that Watson was allowing Holmes to go in first.

But he was stopped as his foot reached the step. Watson held his shoulder.

"Thank you for including her in this crime scene. I believe she appreciates it. _And_…you're going to be a _great_ teacher." He muttered and Holmes nodded slowly, looking a little down all of a sudden.

"Of course."

They climbed into the carriage and rode to 221-Baker Street. Finally.


	4. Good Night

**It's hard to put an explanation when you don't know what to say.**

**I'm still trying to figure out how to pace the story, and pace the characters, and keep characters…well…in character.**

**Especially Holmes and Watson.**

**And it's actually very hard to phrase things. Make them easy to understand, etc.**

**So, to all who read, please forgive my writing.**

"So this is the inside of 221 Baker Street." Matilda sighed, feeling satisfied that she would no longer be in a carriage. Watson followed behind with her bag, setting it down by the door. She spun around as he set the bag down on the ground.

"John I could've gotten that." She laughed gesturing to the bag.

Holmes squeezed in between Watson and the doorway, carrying Matilda's hat and gloves. He walked to Matilda's side and held them out to her with a bow.

"You left your items in the carriage." He said matter-of-factly.

She looked down at her hat and gloves and smiled, delicately grabbing them with her index finger and thumb and slipping them out of his grip with a quiet "Thank you".

His hand moved around to his back and connected to his other hand. He made no attempt to say anything else to either of them and he spun on his heels to direct his attention to the stairs. He strode over and stepped up them quickly, calling out for Mrs. Hudson.

"Nanny!" he called.

"Yes Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson's voice called back from the kitchen, her tone full of frustration and annoyance because of the nickname. Matilda looked at Watson and tried not to smile.

"I would like tea before I leave for the Pub!" he called, reaching the top of the stairs and pushing his way into his room. He slammed the door, causing Matilda and Watson to flinch.

Her head shot to the side to look at Watson who stared at her awkwardly.

"Pub?"

"Yes, well—"

The kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Hudson stalked her way out to stare up the stairs, disregarding Matilda and Watson who had to take a step back to give the kitchen door room to swing open. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, "Oh, yes your majesty. I'll get you your tea. I can't give you an exact answer as to when you'll get it—" she began to complain, hobbling back towards the kitchen door.

Matilda giggled and Watson coughed into his fist, "Mrs. Hudson." He said, his voice singing into her ears smoothly. She stopped halfway through the door and looked back at them.

Subtly, Watson gestured to Matilda and Mrs. Hudson made a barely audible gasp.

"Oh deary! Oh, beg my pardon. I didn't see you two there! It's so nice to meet you love." She grinned, reaching out for Matilda's hand so she could pull her into a hug. Matilda greatly accepted it with a smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you!" she laughed, forgetting about her "Pub" question.

Mrs. Hudson peered at Watson who just smirked and nodded, causing Mrs. Hudson to smile.

The elder woman grabbed the younger by the shoulders and held her at arms length to examine her for some reason. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Dear, dear, dear. Do you ever eat? You are as deathly thin as a rail! I'll make you some food once I'm done bringing Mr. Holmes his tea." She said, wagging a finger in Matilda's face. She just nodded and smiled, politely saying "Thank you".

From where they were standing the house seemed quite tall. They stood between the staircase banister and the hallway, a gap of air leading to the wall. Mrs. Hudson had spun around and exited through the kitchen door on the left, the door would swing forwards and backwards again before finally stopping.

Matilda stepped forward to look up the stairs, setting her hand on the banister. The whole building was very dark; barely any of the lights were on, and only a minimal amount of natural light came in from 2 or 3 large windows. Some walls had chipping paint and the others were sometimes different colors. Matilda crinkled her nose at the sight, unimpressed by any of it.

It was her new home for now.

Watson's hand came in contact with her back. She smiled at him.

"Would you like to see your room?" he asked politely, gesturing up the stairs with an open-palmed hand. She stared up them and pressed her lips together. She was nervous to see it, judging by the front room of the house, she wasn't getting a very good first impression.

"Yes please." She nodded.

He took the first step up the stairs and held her hand gently, leading up her gradually. With her free hand she groped her skirt to lift it up, not wanting to step on it as she climbed. Her head swiveled around everywhere, to look at everything, as they climbed. She stared at pictures of a family standing together, of random men who must've, somehow, been related to Holmes, and to a square spot on the wall where the paint was lighter then anywhere else. Like a picture had been taken down from that spot.

"I see you are encompassed in Holmes' ancestry." Watson chuckled and Matilda turned to him.

"Some what. They look very…" she stopped at a picture of a very angry looking man. "…pleasant." She forcibly smiled.

He just smiled back and looked forward, staring at the top of the stairs. To the right was the door to Holmes' study, and double doors lead to Watson's personal study, that he would only attend to periodically.

Up another flight of stairs were the bedrooms, which they walked to in silence. The staircase would creak and crackle, scream and cackle, and the walls would moan. 'The house was old', was Watson's excuse.

Matilda stared at the doorway at the far left, knowing it was her room. The other was Mrs. Hudson's, evident by the little decoration of lilac hanging from her doorknob. She could only guess where Holmes would sleep.

Watson gestured to the door and smiled, "Go on, have a look see." He muttered and Matilda smiled warmly. She slipped her hand from his and walked towards the door. She reached for the handle and grasped it tightly, watching her knuckles begin to turn white.

She turned the knob and opened the door to a friendly looking room. Light, decently flowered wallpaper had replaced the green walls, and there was a lamp that painted a warm-washed light over the room. The bed even looked comfortable. The room had a different air to it, and she liked it. It was very Watson.

"Oh, John." She laughed, scurrying into it happily.

"This is wonderful! It's so homey!" she grinned, lifting her shoulders timidly.

He nodded, standing in the doorway.

"Perfect. I haven't slept in here in ages, but I made sure to ask Mrs. Hudson to dust some things off for your arrival." He said, gesturing to a small writing desk and a lamp and a small beside table. She acknowledged all items and she smiled at him satisfied.

"This is absolutely superb. Thank you, John." She sighed, entwining her fingers together and letting out a chuckle.

He stepped inside of the room and looked around the ceiling, up and down the walls, in the corners and along the floors. He casually tried to maneuver his head around to look into the closet and out the window as Matilda stood still, looking around the corners of the ceiling, checking for cobwebs. They were suddenly face-to-face and they smiled at one another.

She held out her arms and wrapped them around him tightly, him doing the same.

"I can't thank you enough." She sighed tiredly, feeling glad to hug her old friend.

There was silence between them as they shared a long awaited hug. Not something playful; not something childish; just a good, strong, well-deserved hug.

"I'm sorry I stopped writing you after I became acquainted with Holmes." He muttered. She smirked and chuckled into his shoulder.

"You found a new friend. And he found you. That's a good enough excuse not to send letters to me." She sighed, pulling away from the hug and patting his shoulder happily. She grinned up at him. He stared at her suspiciously all of a sudden.

"What?"

"I thought you would've been more torn." He smirked.

"Well, I was. But now I see that Mr. Holmes needed you more then I did." She shrugged, sounding matter-of-fact and professional. He shook his head, snickering.

"He would've been fine without me."

Matilda quirked a brow and smirked, knowing the correct response to her statement. To her fact. She patted his shoulder again and turned to walk to the bed. She set her hat and gloves down on the bed and rubbed her arms. She examined the floor, spinning around and around to find her bag.

"What's the matter?" Watson asked, quirking a brow.

She sighed, "I left my bag downstairs."

"Oh, I can get it." He offered, sounding bright and willing. She smiled, looking at him pitifully.

"If that's all right. Thank you." She called as he nodded curtly and spun on his heels to walk down the hall and down the stairs. She messed with her coat buttons and peeled it off slowly, looking around the room again.

She could hear Watson and Mrs. Hudson suddenly interacting, crossing paths at the bottom of the stairs where Watson had grabbed her bag and where Mrs. Hudson had just exited the kitchen.

"Excuse me, doctor." She said politely. He shuffled out of her way.

"My apologies. Would you care for some help?" she offered.

"No, no. It's just a flight of stairs. I can do it. It's only one floor up, how much harm can one woman do?" she laughed, Matilda able to hear the clanking of the tea cups against the metal tray.

"All right. Well, I'll be right behind you, just in case." He assured her as their foot steps fell into sync, stomping slowly up the stairs.

Matilda walked out in the hallway and looked over the railing, holding onto it tightly. She looked across at the opposite wall where the landing for the second floor sat. She saw Watson's office and Holmes office/room off to the right of it.

Mrs. Hudson arrived at the top of the stairs and she gave Watson a nod, a signal that she was all right from there. He nodded back and walked around her to the next flight of stairs.

Her fist was lifted into the air when the music of a violin played throughout the house. It was obviously coming from Holmes' room, but it seemed like it was coming from the hallway. Like he was playing for the whole house to hear.

Mrs. Hudson's fist dropped and she groaned.

"He'll never be able to hear over that damn violin." She complained. She set the tray down on a small table next to Watson's office doors and wiped her hands on her apron. She trudged back down the stairs and disappeared into the kitchen.

Matilda crinkled her nose and stared at Holmes' door as Watson walked past her and set her bag down on her bed. He came back out and sighed, keeping his back straight and narrow. He examined her face and then followed her eyes to the second floor.

He looked back at her and smirked.

"Is he always going to play the violin like this?" she asked, cringing as he began to play incoherent notes. Watson squinted in displeasure and slowly nodded.

"Most of the time. But after a time, you begin to ignore it. Like it's now just a buzzing of flies." He said, bobbing his head back and forth, keeping his eyes on his friends door.

She sighed and took her hands off the railings, turning to her new room.

"I hate flies." She grumbled and Watson snorted.

"You grow accustomed." He said simply.

She began to unpack some of her things, setting them down on the bed and sorting them.

"Why does he even play the violin that way? No melody or harmony, no beat, no tune. Like he's gone blind?" she asked.

Watson stepped inside the room and shrugged.

"He started an experiment during the Blackwood case, having to do with the certain ways of playing the violin, and how it effects the movements of flies in glass jars. He learned that when you play unintelligibly, the flies in-sync, counter-clockwise." He explained, trying to remember it correctly. She cringed again at the word flies.

He thought for a moment, "He's probably going back to his same hypothesis. Except he's probably using bees or something."

Matilda slammed her suitcase.

"Bees?"

Quickly, he strode over her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding both of them with his hands.

"I was joking. He wouldn't do that, there aren't any bees here. No need to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid—but having bees inside?"

"He doesn't have any bees." He laughed and he squeezed her shoulder.

"Don't worry. I promise. You will learn to understand him."

Matilda pressed her lips together and nodded. She turned to her bed, longing to jump into it, but she felt something was now different. Like something had changed while they were talking. She looked around and suddenly realized what was wrong.

"What?" Watson asked, noticing her expression.

"Do you hear it…silence." She muttered, staring over his shoulder at the doorway.. Watson looked as well and shrugged.

"It's not impossible. He grew tired and—" he began, but was cut short by a slam and the rattling of china on metal.

Matilda stood on her toes and expected to see something over Watson's shoulder. But he moved quickly out into the hall and she decided to chase after him. Watson was scurrying down the stairs by the time Matilda reached the middle of the hallway.

She knew she wouldn't make it downstairs in time to see the commotion, so she jumped to the railing and stared over it, holding onto it tightly. Holmes was standing in front of his office slurping down a cup of tea, putting on his coat and holding his hat.

Watson stepped onto the second floor, holding out his arms in disbelief.

"Where are you going?"

No answer from Holmes.

Watson narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Holmes." He demanded.

"Nanny!" Holmes called over his shoulder.

There was silence and Holmes called her louder, "NANNY!"

"YES, Mr. Holmes." She called, pushing through the kitchen door.

"I am off to the Pub, I don't expect to be back until tomorrow." He called sternly, suddenly walking down the stairs to the first floor.

Watson rolled his eyes and walked to the top of the first flight stairs. He stared down them at his friend who was applying his hat and reaching for the door.

"Holmes, you can't leave. You have to go complete a case tomorrow with Lestrade. You need to be reasoned enough to remember to take Matilda with you, to teach her, to get her used to things."

"And I assure you I will, Watson. I will be back in time to grab the girl and uncover the truth." He said, leaving it at that, not explain in great detail how, or why he was leaving.

Mrs. Hudson just stared between the two men, not knowing the reason as to why she was really called out, except to be told that Holmes was leaving. She looked at Watson who was crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Holmes." He teased, not knowing whether to joke or be serious about Holmes' sudden departure.

Holmes nodded and opened the door. He paused halfway through closing the door. He pushed it opened slightly and stuck his head inside.

"Oh, I'm also making bets in your name for you, does two hundred and fifty pounds a fight sound reasonable?" he asked, smirking and Watson shook his head.

"I don't gamble anymore Holmes."

From up above, Matilda could still see Holmes smirk.

"Of course. Good night Watson, Nanny, Ms. Rogers." He called loudly up to Matilda who just lifted her hand to wave numbly.

The door slammed and Mrs. Hudson looked at Watson who had glanced up at Matilda. Mrs. Hudson walked to the bottom of the stairs and set her hands on her hips.

"Matilda, your last name is Rogers?" she called and Matilda nodded animatedly so she could see clearly. Mrs. Hudson looked at Watson.

"Did you tell him her last name?" she asked and Watson shook his head, not bothering to ask Matilda, because she probably hadn't told him either.

"He probably got it off of her briefcase or something. And that, ladies, is a way to give a quick and simple Holmesian deduction." He laughed, saying it matter-of-factly as he walked back up the steps.

Matilda laughed and smiled at him as he reached the third floor. She cocked her head in his direction.

"Holmesian?"

"…Yes, I have him his own deduction method." He said quietly, and kissed her temple. "Good night." He muttered. "Good night." She replied tiredly as he walked down the stairs, yet again, grabbed his coat and hat and left for the night.

Both she and Mrs. Hudson ate their share of stew and homemade bread, and called it a day. Retiring to their own rooms.

* * *

><p>Her clock struck 4 am. It rang loudly in the main hall of the house, echoing up the flights.<p>

Matilda's eyes slowly inched open, staring out the moonlit window to the right of her bed. She rubbed her forehead and flipped onto her back tiredly, letting out a sigh. The bed was comfy, but she woke up every other hour because of the clock.

But, this time, at the beginning of the hour, she thought she heard another noise. She didn't bother sitting up, thinking it must've been someone else in the house. Either Mrs. Hudson moving around, or maybe even Holmes came home.

Her second guess was on the spot because a moment after her thought, she heard slow, heavy footsteps on the stairs. She squinted up at the ceiling, only expecting to hear one flight of stairs and then a slam of his office door. But he kept climbing until he was outside her door.

She lay still, now not completely sure whether it was Holmes or not. She pulled the blanket up over her head, afraid an enemy of Holmes had decided to come and visit, knowing she was there.

The door slowly creaked open and Matilda figuratively bit her tongue, threatening to do it physically. The footsteps stepped in the room and a familiar voice quietly called out.

"Watson?"

She stayed silent. Waiting to see what Holmes did next.

He let out a sigh and she heard the crinkling of paper and his footsteps come further into the room.

"Either you're actually asleep, or you're faking because you would not like to talk to me. For good reason. I did walk out of here, rather abruptly and rudely. My apologies for that. Rogers must have the worst impression of me so far." He muttered, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. Matilda figured that he was calling her by her last name.

She stayed silent, waiting for him to say more.

"…I do not like her Watson. Believe me, it is nothing against her personally. She is a kind woman, who seems likeable, stubborn and well-taught. But I do not like her being here." He muttered, speaking much quieter then before, like he was confessing this to Watson, yet hesitantly.

Matilda shut her eyes tightly, worried about what he'd say next.

"You love Mary. I understand. Love, I do not understand, but why you love, I very much do. I on the other hand…love a woman…and do not know why. But because you love Mary, you shouldn't be so quick to replace yourself." He continued.

Matilda bit her lip now, not wanting to hear a speech about love or anything that could be exponentially embarrassing for both Watson and Holmes.

He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.

"It is your decision. Do not take offense to anything I have said. I respect your opinion." He muttered finally, standing up and reaching into his jacket.

He walked up, next to Matilda's pillow and set sheets of paper down onto the nightstand. From the sound of the crinkling, Matilda figured that there was about 4 or 5 sheets.

His hand shot across the bed and patted her shoulder lightly, like he was petting a small animal.

"Good night my friend." He said sincerely.

His footsteps moved across the room and through the door, before being muffled by the wood that separated them. She sat up and leaned on her elbows, looking over at her nightstand.

She turned on her lamp and reached for the papers, sitting up completely and rubbing her eyes, pushing her hair out of the way. She read through all of the papers, each reading that Watson had won _four_ hundred and fifty pounds, not _two_ hundred and fifty pounds. Each paper was worth that much.

She set them down in her lap, looking at them somberly, trying to figure out Holmes and Watson's relationship based on the paper. But she could not use any sort of Holmesian theory or deduction on it.

"…Good night." She whispered in reply.


	5. The Rightful Owner

**Hiya everybody!**

**It's time for a chapter without Watson.**

**GASP.**

**What? No Watson you say?**

**WHAT IS THIS MALARKY?**

**This is also for Matilda to just start understanding how weird Holmes is, and how much he does for Watson, no matter how small or big the contribution is.**

Sunlight was now pouring through the window instead of moonlight.

Matilda had fallen asleep immediately after turning her lamp off and setting her head down on her pillow. Her thoughts were still wrapping around the papers, but now that it was morning, she didn't really want to bother with them.

She only planned on picking them up, getting dressed, and walking down the stairs to politely give Holmes' the papers back.

Only so he could give them to the "rightful" owner.

Carefully, she lifted her head off of the pillow and looked towards the window, out at the street and the carriages. She ran her hands through her hair and shut her eyes tightly to allow them to stop burning for a minute.

She rubbed her eyes and tore the blanket away from her, pushing herself out of the bed. Her feet hit the cold floor and her toes curled up in discomfort. Her fingers began to rub her eyes again and she sucked in a breath as she stood up, stretching. She looked around the room as she ran her hands down her arms and scratched her shin with her heel.

A robe had been hung on a coat hanger next to the door. Matilda never remembered packing one, and accepted that Mrs. Hudson must've set one there for her earlier. She smiled at it and sighed contently.

She rushed to it and pulled it off of the hanger, throwing it around her and slipping her arms through the sleeves. She hugged herself and grinned, feeling like the morning was going to be a good one.

When her hand wrapped around the door handle, she remembered Watson's bets and strode back to retrieve them. She picked them up and kept them folded, so it looked as though she hadn't seen their contents yet.

Finally, she opened the door and walked down the hallway and the stairs, the house seemingly lighter now that it was morning. She dragged her fingers down the wall as she passed Holmes' office and made her way down to the first floor, she stared at his door for only a second.

The kitchen door, on the other hand, was wide open. Compared to Holmes dark, closed door, the kitchen looked as inviting as her bedroom.

Matilda made her way inside and heard the cooking of breakfast, and the whistle of tea. She could smell the baked goods, what ever they may be. She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, relishing every second.

She heard Mrs. Hudson's footsteps walk by and she opened her eyes to see the woman setting the table. She looked up at Matilda and smiled.

"Good morning. I assumed that you would enjoy eating breakfast at the table." She said sweetly and Matilda nodded, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears.

"I do, in fact." She laughed and walked over to the table as Mrs. Hudson finally finished putting the silverware down.

Mrs. Hudson dashed back to the stove and finished making whatever she was making. She came back with a plate covered in toast and a jar full of creamy looking mixed berries/jams.

"I made some Berry Toast, and the Bakewell Pudding is on its way." Mrs. Hudson smiled, carefully setting the plates down on the table. Matilda sat in one of the chairs and picked up her napkin to set it in her lap.

She looked down at the place settings as she reached for a piece of toast. She looked over at Mrs. Hudson.

"Are you not going to be eating with us?" she asked. She set her toast down on her plate and Mrs. Hudson pulled the Bakewell pudding out of the oven. She looked at Matilda and looked around awkwardly.

"Whatever do you mean dear?"

"I mean…there are only two place settings…one for me, and one for Mr. Holmes…right?" she asked and Mrs. Hudson began to laugh. She carefully carried over the pot of pudding and set it down.

"Oh, no, no, no. Mr. Holmes takes every meal in his study. That plate is for me." She said, beginning to prepare a separate plate for Holmes.

Matilda shut her mouth and nodded, finding Holmes' study a very interesting place, seeing as how everything he did was in there. It must've been a very big study.

His plate was done being prepared, just final touches on the toppings of his food, and Matilda stood up, not realizing she was still holding the papers in her hand. She pushed her chair in a reached for his cup of tea and smoothly took his plate out of Mrs. Hudson's hands.

"You need to eat, you've been working all morning. I will take him his food." She said politely, trying to maneuver around the kitchen with a plate full of food. Mrs. Hudson began to object but Matilda was already at the stairs, climbing them gradually.

Her eyes stared at the door the entire time, at the exact same spot in the middle of the door until she made it up to the second floor.

The tea was set down first on the small table, and she did her best to hold onto the plate of food as it began to burn her hand through the gambling papers. She pressed her lips together and knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again.

No answer, like the day before.

"Mr. Holmes!" she called, knocking again.

She knew there would be no answer, so she narrowed her eyes at the door. She looked down at the knob, and then back at the door itself. She grabbed the handle and turned it quickly, like she was tearing off a band-aid, and pushed it open.

A rush of air came at her and a light screen of smoke followed. The room was dark and musky. She crinkled her nose and squinted inside, lifting her hand to push away the smoke.

She swallowed a pocket of air and grabbed the cup of tea carefully. She stepped inside and squinted again to try and get her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her searching was mainly for a table.

For a moment, she thought of sticking her foot out to feel around like a blind person. And to her, that didn't seem like a bad idea.

Her foot inched forward, going as slow as possible, knowing her eyes will probably adjust by the time her foot actually finds the leg of a table.

And she was right.

The darkness seemed to dispel and she saw the outlines of stacks of books and pieces of furniture covered in papers or trinkets. The room was as crowded as the courtyard in front of a popular tourist attraction.

She still stuck her foot out to find an empty table, and found one along the edge of a random curtain that hung next to the door. She "um"ed and "uh"ed to herself as she tried to push some things out of the way to set the plates down.

Finally she set everything down and arranged it so then it had no way of falling off of the table, even if it was bumped. But she felt like she actually had to search for Holmes. There was so much stuff in his room; it looked like a museum of junk. He must've not been able to hear her when she knocked.

Reluctant to walk away from the table, she began to mess with the food again, trying to make the food look nice enough for him to actually want to eat.

Matilda thought he looked like he didn't eat a lot.

She began to mess with his tea, her wrist brushing up against an armchair, when suddenly a hand shot out from the chair and grabbed her wrist. She let out a gasp and tried to pull her wrist away, but the hand held on.

The fighting caused the teacup to fall over and spill tea all over the place.

Holmes' head suddenly popped out as well, staring at her wildly, not realizing who it was until then.

"Rogers! Rogers calm down! It's me!" he called, jumping out of the seat and letting go of her wrist. She stopped and looked at him shocked.

He had a smoking pipe sticking out of his mouth, letting out puffs of smoke every other second. Her brows furrowed and she was thinking about smacking him.

"Mr. Holmes? How dare you scare me like that!" she threatened, trying to catch her breath after almost dying of fright.

He just smirked and chuckled through his pipe.

"I'm sorry, it was not my intention. I didn't realize it was you…oh, damn it all." He swore lightly under his breath as he turned to see the tea spilled along the table.

He reached for a random cloth on the floor and flattened it out to reveal it was a coat. He lifted up the cup and set the coat onto the spill. He began to walk around, pushing things around and rearranging things, choosing a different spot for his violin.

She watched him the entire time, staring at him incredulously. He felt her stare and looked at her innocently.

"Yes?"

She widened her eyes and gestured to the food.

"I brought you breakfast! Mrs. Hudson worked very hard to make this, and we would both appreciate it if you would eat it and give her a sincere thank you!" she said, pointing at the food. Holmes glanced at it and then at her.

"I'm not hungry. I'll eat something later this afternoon." He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, "Of course. Someone makes you a decent meal, and you don't have the—have the—you just won't eat it!" she said, trying not to say something rude or irrational.

He smirked and began to throw clothes around.

"You are taking this too personally. It just shows how you will react at crime scenes." He pointed out, taking his pipe out of his mouth for a moment to speak.

She glared at him and sucked in a breath, trying to hold in things. The feeling passed and she let out a calm sigh.

"I am only reacting personally because…I just believe you should eat more. And she put in so much hard work to make you this lovely breakfast. It'd just be nice for you to eat it." She said politely, trying to sound sincere.

Holmes nodded.

"Duly noted." He said and she rolled her eyes and let her hands slap her sides discontentedly.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she swallowed it down. She coughed and began to shake her head. He stared at her, his brows raised.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked and she waved her hand around to dismiss his question.

She coughed again and narrowed her eyes at him. He just kept moving around, not paying attention to her. But she knew he could feel her staring. She knew he would say something witty that would hurt her emotionally in some way because he found it witty.

So he did.

He lifted his head from staring at a trinket and lifted his brows.

"…What? Do you think watching me will make me eat?" he asked, trying to hold back a smile.

It didn't emotionally hurt her, per say, but it did disrespect her, in her opinion. She shook her head again and glared.

"I deal with children all of the time Mr. Holmes, but this is ridiculous." She muttered. She pointed at the food and stood up straight.

"Eat. Now." She demanded before spinning on her bare heels to hastily walk out the door, forgetting to give him Watson's bets.

* * *

><p>Matilda finally finished pinning up her curls, so it was gracefully falling down her neck and back again. She had gotten dressed in one of the three dresses she had brought.<p>

She knew she should've brought a larger bag.

With one last look in the mirror, she sprang up to her feet and walked down to the second floor.

For a moment, she stared at Holmes' door again. She expected that he was still sitting around or rearranging things just to find something to do. She rolled her eyes and passed by the table next to his door.

She glanced down at it and noticed that it had an empty plate on it, one that was supposed to have food on it. Her feet stopped pulling her towards the stairs.

Curiously, her head turned to it and her eyes stared at it. A smile began to form on her lips, but she quickly closed her lips back together. The edges still curled, but it gave her a smile that read that she had won some sort of battle.

Gingerly, she picked up the plate and carried it down the stairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Hudson sat, reading a book.

"Hello!" Matilda smiled, walking over to the sink and setting it inside, prepared to wash it.

"Hello deary. Oh you can leave that, I'll get it." Mrs. Hudson smiled, holding out her hand to stop her.

"Are you sure? I'm capable of doing it. It's the least I can do, since you made such a beautiful breakfast." She replied and Mrs. Hudson relaxed.

She began to shake her head though.

"You don't have to do it. I just have to finish this chapter and then I'll do all of the dishes at once." She assured her and turned back to her book.

Matilda looked at the floor and then at Mrs. Hudson, "If you're sure." She nodded, walking towards the door.

As soon as she stepped out, the silence of the house was interrupted by a knock on the door. Awkwardly she stared at it, as if she was expecting it to open on it's own or for Mrs. Hudson to come rushing out.

But the knock wasn't that loud, and so when the next one came ten times louder Matilda heard the sound of Mrs. Hudson's chair skidding across the floor and her footsteps hurrying out to the front hall. Matilda jumped out of her way as she began to call, "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Mrs. Hudson pulled the door open at the speed of light, quickly fixing up her apron and pushing back a chunk of her hair. She was only greeted by Lestrade and Clarky, who smiled politely.

"Good afternoon Madam. I'm looking for Holmes." Lestrade bowed and Mrs. Hudson lightly cleared her throat.

"Oh…of course. Come in, please." She said, moving out of their way.

Matilda tried to step forward and peer at them, but they moved in so quickly she had to jump back before they smashed into her. Mrs. Hudson closed to the door and followed the men to the bottom of the stairs.

"What exactly is the reason you require him?" she asked curiously.

Clarky turned to her.

"We found the source of dirt. It took a lot of searching, but we think we found a close match." He said matter-of-factly, looking quite proud.

Mrs. Hudson quirked a brow.

"Dirt?"

Matilda stepped forward.

"You found a match? That's wonderful! Where did it come from?" she asked, intrigued.

The men just stared at her, then at each other. Lestrade cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we are not able to disclose that information to you." He said professionally.

There was a creak from the stairs and a voice.

"Yes you can. She's my assistant." Holmes said, standing at the top of the stairs, his hands behind his back and his eyebrows raised, allowing him to look bright and cheery.

"Whatever you say to me, you may say to her." He said, gesturing in Matilda's direction. Mrs. Hudson's head slowly turned to look at Matilda and she nodded impressed.

Matilda just stared up at him like he was some scary, yet wonderful being from heaven who randomly descended to solve the case. Lestrade just nodded.

"Yes, of course, my mistake. Now Holmes, we must go! We found a possible match to the dirt…we need your help in finding the spot where the man could've been killed." He said quickly, staring at Holmes intensely.

Holmes looked up at the ceiling, squinting, thinking. He began to bob his head back and forth, barely nodding.

"I could do that. But unless you have another victim, I can honestly say that you have no need for my professional help. It's not hard to conclude details." He said with a shrug.

Lestrade let out an exasperated sigh.

"We don't have time Holmes."

"And why not?"

"Because it is going to rain soon. We're going to lose all evidence." Lestrade said quickly.

Holmes' jaw seemed to tense up and he seemed to be contemplating the entire situation. Matilda stared between Lestrade and Holmes, Lestrade sending daggers Holmes' way. She lifted her hand and let out a quiet, "Um."

Everyone turned to her and she flinched. She looked up at Holmes, nervously glancing at everyone else.

"Um…I think it would be best if we went. Don't you think?" she asked.

The silence began to form again until Holmes gave in and let out a nod.

"If we must. We'll be right behind you inspector." He called down, bowing slightly and moseying down the stairs.

Matilda walked over to meet him at the bottom, her gloves and hat already on, her hands folded in front of her. Holmes stopped next to her and nodded.

"Good instinct." He said simply.

Lestrade and Clarky opened the door and left it open after they retreated, waiting at the bottom of the front steps for them to come out and get into the carriage with them. But Matilda grabbed Holmes' shoulder, leaving them shoulder to shoulder.

"Thank you for eating breakfast."

He blinked and didn't look at her.

"I would say that I gave it to the dog…but Watson took him to his new home." He chuckled.

Matilda's eyes widened and she reached into her pocket and pulled out the gambling papers, remembering that she was unable to give them to him earlier since she had stormed out. She unfolded them and smoothed them out, handing them to him.

"I forgot to give these to you." She muttered.

He took them gently and stared down at them. His eyes didn't widen very much, but they did widen, and they had balls of emotion in them. He looked up at her, looking stunned and melancholy.

She pressed her lips together, staring him up and down.

"I suggest you give them to their rightful owner." She muttered, articulating her words.

Her eyes met his and they were overcome with their chocolate color. They seemed very melancholy and confused, not knowing what to think about how she knew about the amount of money he was potentially giving Watson.

She guessed his intentions, and knew they were sweet. She took them from his hands and folded them up, lifting open his coat to stick them into his pocket. She closed his coat and patted the pocket.

Turning gracefully, she walked slow enough for him to catch up, but he didn't move. He just watched her.

She stopped in the doorway and looked at him.

"Come along." She said sweetly, gesturing for him to follow.

And he did.


	6. I'm Being Watched

**I need to improve my writing.**

**XD**

**This is horrible.**

**I hate reading through my own writing.**

**But you must always try and try again.**

**So that's what I'll do. Things are gonna get better, I promise!**

"The dirt was located in the City of Westminster. It's the one sample that was closest to the dirt we found at the scene." Lestrade described as Clarky handed Holmes their written report.

Holmes just took the paper, staring at it for a moment before setting it on the seat between him and Matilda. She looked down at it and then up at Clarky who just pressed his lips together.

"Be specific Lestrade, I don't understand you when you speak so broadly." Holmes said, staring out the window uninterested.

Clarky and Matilda sucked in a breath at the same time, both of them knowing this was going to get heated. They looked at Lestrade, who was sending daggers in Holmes' direction. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

"I was just about to get to that Holmes." He said defensively.

Tension began to fill the carriage, and the two remaining passengers looked around awkwardly, waiting for Holmes to answer.

But he just kept looking out the window, nodding in response to Lestrade.

Lestrade sucked in a breath.

"We found the dirt by the River Thames." He continued monotonously. Clarky just nodded, trying to find a way to relieve the tension. His nodding wasn't working, though.

Matilda turned her head slowly to Holmes, expecting him to answer. She hoped he wouldn't decide to embarrass them. Him not speaking was torture enough.

Holmes seemed to be thinking hard, his chin tensing up like it did many times before. His eyes were glistening. She didn't know with what though; with tears or with emotion. But he was thinking quite hard.

She reached for his arm and touched it.

"Mr. Holmes?" she asked.

His head shot around and looked at her, looking slightly confused. He looked at Lestrade and at Clarky.

"…Where on the River Thames?" he asked.

Clarky opened his mouth first, blurting it out.

"Around the area of the Palace of Westminster. We're going to search around that area, mainly in the alleyways. We think it would be more accurate if we searched around the smaller buildings. The killer probably wouldn't have wanted to cause a scene." He said professionally, keeping his tone matter-of-fact.

Holmes looked at up, staring him up and down before smiling.

"Thank you Clarky." He said sincerely.

Matilda eyed the two of them and smirked. She turned to Lestrade and cleared her throat.

"Once we find the blood, where would we go from there?" she asked, gesturing out the window, like she was gesturing to the city in general.

Lestrade followed her hand and looked out the window. His face showed his contemplation before he squinted at her and then pointed to Holmes.

"When we find the blood, Holmes shall take us the rest of the way. That is, if he cooperates." He said menacingly. Matilda blinked a few times, looking at Holmes worriedly.

He just nodded in approval. He leaned his elbow on the windowsill and rested his fingers against his lips, staring out the window.

Everyone except Holmes cleared their throats and shifted in their seats until they were able to get to the "scene".

The carriage pulled up to the "scene" and Clarky jumped out of at the car as quickly as possible so as to offer Matilda a helping hand. Lestrade didn't allow him a chance and pushed himself in her way and hopped out of the carriage.

He wrapped his fingers around Clarky's sleeve and led him away from the carriage and towards a random alleyway. Matilda just rolled her eyes and stood up to exit.

Holmes was soon following her. She stopped only for a moment to survey the surroundings.

For some reason, she felt like someone was watching them. People walked past, not acknowledging their presence, and yet she felt like someone was watching them. She did her best to find people who were just stopped in general, but she had no luck.

Holmes came up behind her and set her hand on her upper back.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

She turned her head to face him and she pressed her lips together. Her head searched around again and she shook it, her curls flinging around.

"It just feels odd here. Like we're being watched." She shrugged, trying to literally shrug it off.

He nodded in acknowledgment and he, too, looked over his shoulder suspiciously.

"Hurry up you two! The rain is coming!" Lestrade's voice echoed from an alleyway.

Both of them knew it was. The sky was turning gray and the clouds were creeping towards them ominously.

Matilda nodded to herself as she stared up at them, squinting.

"He's right. Come on, let's go." Holmes said picking up his pace, leading Matilda behind him towards the alleyway.

The alleyway smelled just like the one the day before. There was a dumpster down the far end of the alleyway, causing all of them to lift their hands up to their noses and plug them. Holmes specifically pulled a soft handkerchief out of his coat and pinched his nose with it.

Clarky seemed to stop in his tracks, not wanting to move forward because of the smell. Lestrade on the other hand practically pushed his way through. Matilda's brow quirked and without moving her face, gazed at Holmes who looked back at her, his eyes laced with annoyance.

With a jerk of his head, he gestured for her to follow him. Hesitantly, her eyes darted to Clarky and Lestrade who were hastily jogging down the alleyway searching for any clues. Holmes was leading her away though, towards the brick wall on the right.

"Mr. Holmes, what're you doing?" she hissed, her voice nasal. She kept her nose pinched, as did he. He bent over next to the wall, examining the crease between the ground and the brick.

He stopped at one spot of the wall and lifted his finger, pointing at it victoriously.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

She lifted her dress to try and kneel down, but stopped herself when she saw red from the corner of her eyes. Her eyes widened and she stood up.

"Blood! Mr. Holmes—" she gasped but he stood and covered her mouth.

He just nodded slowly.

"Don't worry, Rogers, I know. But I need you to look at the wall…what do you see?" he said calmly, pointing at the wall above the bloodstains.

Their eyes trailed up from the blood to scratches trailing down the wall. Her brows furrowed and his hand slipped away from her mouth, allowing her mouth to hang open and her pale cheeks to turn pink from a sudden burst of cold.

He knelt beside the blood and scanned his finger up and down alongside the scratches.

"You see? I don't know how I could've forgotten…we were so encompassed in looking at the inside of the back of his coat that we didn't look on the outside. There are _deep_ contusions in the wall…most likely from the buttons on his coat. Why didn't I point that out before?" he asked, genuinely sounding disturbed by his mistake.

Matilda shrugged and looked around, trying to think of a good answer.

"It slipped your mind. No need to bother over it now." She offered, but he ignored her.

His handkerchief covered hand reached out to the wall, the cloth stretching and wrinkling as his fingers pulled it around an item in the wall.

She was watched intrigued as he pulled his hand away, holding onto a shiny silver button. Delicately, he held it up between them, keeping it eye level.

"Voila." He said with a smile.

Her eyes squinted as her lips turned slightly downward. She shrugged and shook her head, obviously not impressed, or overly confused. He let out a sigh.

"It is the button from his coat."

"I know that Mr. Holmes. But what is so important about it? I mean…we can match it to his coat, but…." She said, trailing off, not knowing how to continue.

He smiled and stood up, holding the button up to the sky as if a light bulb was going to magically turn on and shine down upon it, lighting it up for the world to see. She stepped forward and set her chin over his shoulder to look up at it, trying to see what he did.

Alas, she couldn't. He just continued to stare at it, and she was stuck looking around awkwardly. She was beginning to get that feeling of being watched again.

She nervously glanced over her shoulder a few times, attracting Holmes' attention. He quirked a brow at her, but continued to stare at the button.

_Maybe it's the design that's interesting him._ Matilda tried to think as she looked down the alleyway towards the street. She still didn't see anyone staring.

Suddenly, there was a crash of thunder and the bright light of lightening. The thunder caused Matilda to jump but the lightening did the trick for Holmes. He smiled at it and brought it down from its high pedestal in the sky.

"Perfect. All right. Let us get Lestrade, Watson, we must be going. He might want to see this." He said mistakenly, keeping the button between his fingers in the handkerchief. He wrapped it up and stuck it into his pants pocket.

Matilda froze and she looked around oddly. She looked at him and raised her brows, looking at him expectantly. He turned to her, looking innocent and unaware.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"…You called me Watson." She chuckled and he didn't blink or budge or react.

"…Honest mistake." He shrugged and it took Matilda a minute before she finally slowly nodded in agreement.

Holmes lifted his hand up to his cheek and cupped his mouth.

"LESTRADE! LESTRADE I HAVE YOUR BLOOD!" he called.

A moment after his voice echoed through the alleyway, Lestrade and Clarky were running at full speed in their direction. It began to drizzle lightly and Matilda turned her nose up to the sky.

Lestrade and Clarky skidded to a stop in front of them staring down at the blood.

"God damn it Holmes—when did you find this? –Get some cover on this!" he called, pointing at Clarky and Holmes and back to Clarky. Clarky looked around frantically, no one recognizing the difference between sweat and rain as it poured down his face.

Holmes' coat flew through the air and landed onto Lestrade's head.

"There. Your cover." He shrugged, the drizzle beginning to become more thick and dense. Matilda lifted her hand up to shield her eyes as the feeling of being watched finally overcame her and she spun around to look in every direction.

Clarky grabbed onto Holmes' coat and held it over Lestrade as Lestrade knelt down in the muck to examine the blood, not noticing the scrapes on the wall in front of him. Holmes smirked and looked over at Matilda who was frantically spinning around.

"Rogers? Are you all right? You look like a fool doing that." He chuckled, stalking over to her. She kept turning around, her hair sticking to her forehead and her neck; the water seeping through her clothes.

She started to feel as though she was hyperventilating, panting heavily as the spinning made her both dizzy and out of breath. She would close her mouth to swallow wads of spit that were forming in her mouth.

"Have you ever—had that feeling of being watched, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, turning fewer times, but turning none the less. Holmes began to look around now, his brows furrowed.

"I have. I don't believe they are uncommon." He muttered.

"Well—the last time I felt it, it was from this little boy who I would teach. Robby Levine. He would sit in my class and stare—just stare, even when I wasn't teaching." She rambled. He listened as best he could as he looked around, starting to get the feeling as well.

She sucked in a breath, "He was harmless! But the feeling just gets to you! I didn't trust him!"

"And why not? He was just a boy." Holmes called out, as he tried to look down the alleyway.

Lestrade and Clarky didn't notice either of them spinning around and searching frantically.

"I didn't trust him because of how he learned to read!"

"How he learned to read? Why does _that_ matter?"

"Yes! He read—your murder cases." She said, looking at him in all seriousness.

If anyone else were listening, they wouldn't have understood why that was so important. It wasn't that he was staring, and it wasn't that he had learned to read from the newspaper murder articles. It was because of what was in his head.

Holmes could understand what she was getting at. It wasn't the feeling of being stared at, but the feeling of the person staring.

Now everyone's hair was sticking to his or her face. Lestrade was running around frantically to get any kind of sample of anything and Clarky was following him with Holmes' coat. Holmes and Matilda stood there panting, staring around, and feeling how dense the atmosphere was.

Clarky and Lestrade rushed past the two of them towards the street where they planned to catch a carriage. Quickly and swiftly, Clarky caught one and helped Lestrade climb inside. His foot was on the step when he suddenly turned around and looked back at Holmes and Matilda.

"Come along! Hurry Mr. Holmes!" he called out.

Holmes' head swiveled over his shoulder, panting. His eyes looking as frantic as ever, he was getting goose bumps just from the point that Matilda was trying to get at. He swallowed down a pocket of air and continued to lightly pant.

He nodded and looked at Matilda who just stared at him skeptically, worriedly, panting as well. He gestured his head.

"We must go. The feeling doesn't matter now." He assured her, reaching out to grab her by the elbow. She let him pull her along towards the carriage, her feet slipping and sliding in the newly made mud.

Her feet began to lose traction as they got closer to the carriage and he stopped them where they were. As if checking for someone to stare, still doubtfully trying to find someone staring, he bent his knees to pick her up and put her in the carriage.

She gasped and wrapped her arms around his shoulder as he came up to the carriage, walking carefully, holding his breath. She looked around, especially back at the alleyway.

The blood had been washed away now, and the gray and brown splattered dumpster seemed to blend in with it's surroundings, making it almost invisible. With her helping hand, Matilda was also able to see over the carriage and around at the people running by, desperate to get out of the rain.

Another crash of thunder and flash of lightening screamed overhead and Matilda looked up at sky into the rain. She looked down at Holmes.

"So what did you see? In the button?" she called.

He let out a grunt and tried to shrug, "I actually saw another engraving, besides the design. I had seen the design before; I know that it is put on quite expensive coats. But some, like our dead man, like to buy pawned off versions of expensive clothing. The ones they buy it from engrave letters into it somehow, most likely their initials. The button—has the pawn shop owners initials." He grunted again.

She only nodded stared up the street. Her eyes widened suddenly. They had connected with the eyes of a man who looked frantic at the sight of her. He looked around hysterically and pushed a woman who was standing nearby in a desperate attempt to run out of Matilda's view.

Matilda's arm shot up and pointed down the street, almost causing enough force to knock Holmes over backwards. He stumbled a bit and looked in the direction of her finger as she cried out, "HOLMES THERE HE IS!" she shrieked.

Now, Holmes didn't know who "he" was. But by the sight of how fast "he" was running he was anxious to get away. And Matilda didn't seem like the kind that would point fingers.

Trying his best to set her down carefully, but quickly, Holmes bent his knees to set Matilda down on her feet. Once he unwrapped his arms from her, he was off. Gone. He was as fast as the man who was running.

Lestrade poked his head out of the carriage and squinted through the rain.

"Where the devil is he going?"

"GO HOLMES!" Matilda frantically screamed, jumping up and down. She smiled as Holmes rounded a corner after the man. She looked at all the people who were reacting to Holmes and Matilda's outburst, including the woman that the man had pushed over.

The woman stood up, her deep red/brown hair was matting to her face, including a thin cake of mud. She stared in the direction that Holmes and the man went and then turned back to stare at Matilda.

Her stare sent ice down Matilda's spine. Something wasn't right about the woman. She wasn't an innocent bystander.

Matilda's brows joined together in the downward position and she cocked her head slightly as the woman's jaw clenched and a sly smile appeared on her face. Matilda sucked in a breath and pointed at her.

"Hey!" she called.

After her voice reached the woman, she too was off and running.

"HEY!" Matilda shrieked, lifting up her skirt to run after the woman, trying her best to run in heels and in a dress. The woman, for some reason, was wearing tight fitting men's clothing.

The woman was fast too; turning a sharp corner onto a thin street that Matilda would hardly consider an alleyway or even a street. But she tried her best to keep her arms up and flat so she could slip through the space quickly. The woman's red hair was trailing behind her, always leaving a tail whenever she would turn a different corner as Matilda rounded another one.

"Come back here!" Matilda panted, finding no use in calling for her anymore. She just kept running.

More and more corners were rounded, Matilda's hands were losing grip on her now heavily dampened dress, which was weighing her down even more. She was taking in big heavy breaths that burned her throat. The woman she was chasing was barely breaking a sweat.

Out of the blue, she heard struggling ahead. They were coming up to the Tower Bridge, still under heavy construction. Holmes was trying to maneuver around pillars and construction equipment as the man was falling over things and slipping through cracks.

With one grab though, Matilda saw Holmes reached out through two pillars and grab the man by the collar of his shirt. Holmes had done a lot more running then she did; his shirt was torn, and his suspenders were hanging at his sides, no longer wrapped around his shoulders.

"Why were you watching us? What was so interesting to you?" Holmes cried around, sounding tired and absolutely angry.

Matilda tried her best to pay attention to the woman she was chasing, who eventually began jumping over all of the equipment. But she was also trying to listen to the man who was mumbling and stuttering.

"SPEAK UP!" Holmes demanded, shaking the man by the front of his shirt, getting right into his face.

"I just—I just—just—I couldn't—I didn't—he was—she—threatened—I didn't—I—" his voice finally cut off and Holmes watched as the man's eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

His eyes widened and his brows furrowed. He stared the man up and down, astonished at what could've just happened. He lifted his two fingers to the man's neck and found no pulse.

"…Oh my…." He muttered, not comprehending the sudden event.

Matilda stared forward right as the woman turned around and knocked over a pile of crates. Matilda gasped and tried to skid to a stop. She knew she wouldn't stop in time, her legs bringing her closer and closer to the crates, so she pushed off of her heels and flew over the boxes, only to land in the mud.

She heard giggling and she looked up at a stark, red-lipped smile and a clouded face.

"Better luck next time." The voice cooed.

Matilda just looked up at her weakly, trying to blink to adjust her eyes, blots of fog covering her eyesight. She could hear her retreating footsteps, but they seemed to grow louder again.

They stopped in front of her and Matilda froze, her face lying on her arms. A boot suddenly slammed down on her left hand and she let out a yelp. A voice rang out in her ear.

"You'll never make it in the business with him." The voice muttered, and the boot peeled itself off of her skin. The footsteps retreated again and she could hear Holmes trying to find a way out, carrying the dead body with him.

"Rogers? Rogers!" he called out, seeing her lying beyond the crates. He set the body down on one of them and did his best to hurtle over a few.

He knelt beside her, the mud squishing under his knee. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up, grunting all the while. She let out a few whimpers as he made an attempt to grab her hand.

"Rogers what are you doing here?" he asked, staring her up and down, mud smeared all over her face.

"I just—there was a woman there! She was…_talking_ to that man and—she glared at me and then ran! So I chased her!" she explained, looking down at her hand pitifully.

He lifted her hand and began to rub it. She whimpered and cringed, pressing her lips together.

He concentrated on her hand, trying to find a way to warm it up, possibly helping with the pain.

"Is your hand alright?" he asked, peering up at her. She chuckled and shook her head "no" anyways.

"She stepped on it—but—no use crying over spilled milk—AH!" she winced as he massaged her knuckles, checking for more pain.

She looked up at him, the rain dripping down her face.

"Did you catch him? Why was he watching us?" she asked, her nose beginning to run.

"Yes I caught him." He said, looking up at her. "He didn't get to say much." He finished, gesturing to the man on the crate.

"Why? I heard him faint and—OH!" she gasped, finally realizing he was dead, his chest completely still.

She covered her mouth with her free hand and looked at Holmes shocked.

"But he was just—what did—what happened?" she cried out, now completely confused. He just shook his head.

"I can't explain now. We must get you home, and we must get Lestrade here to collect the body." He said, turning her away from the body and towards the inner sanctums of the city they had basically exited.

Matilda sucked in a breath of fresh air, able to smell some of the sea. She rubbed her cheeks and shook her head. She had witnessed a murder and was too busy crying over her hand.

_That woman was right,_ she suddenly thought, the rain making her suddenly depressed, _I might never make it in this business._


	7. Oh, He Forgot!

**I want you all to know:**

**TIPS ARE APPRECIATED!**

**I got a review saying that Holmes was too comfortable with my character, and I'm glad they said something!**

**I don't want their relationship to become a "Mary Sue"-ish relationship.**

**No "they get along great" or "they're really compatible" or "they're best friends".**

**Because it isn't supposed to be like that.**

**That's Watson's job.**

Mrs. Hudson put the earpiece of the phone back down onto the receiver. She monotonously sighed and picked up a dirty plate she had found randomly sitting in the hallway. She had, originally, been taking it back to the kitchen when Holmes and Matilda had walked in, soaking wet, Matilda holding her hand like some puppy with a broken paw. Mrs. Hudson didn't know what to expect, so she put the plate down and let Matilda explain; that left Holmes to run up the stairs and slam the door to his study.

"What happened? Did you find anything?" she asked, touching Matilda's shoulder gently.

Matilda nodded her head, her wet hair dripping water on her shoulders and her dress dripping water onto the carpet.

"Yes, we very much did, but it began to rain. We found the blood, and Holmes even found a button he believes could go to the first dead man's jacket." She explained, shrugging a few times.

Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened.

"_First_?" she asked and Matilda pursed her lips and nodded. "Oh my goodness." Mrs. Hudson replied, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"The downside of the second dead man is that he was watching us. We never found out why, but it seemed important." Matilda muttered.

The two women only nodded to themselves, not making another move or sound. Mrs. Hudson patted her shoulder and turned her in the direction of the kitchen.

"Why don't you go in there? I have the oven going with dinner, it is nice and warm." She smiled. Matilda politely nodded and inched her way towards the kitchen, her dress sticking to her skin and weighing her down.

Mrs. Hudson watched her pitifully as she stiffly pushed her way through the door. After the door came to a complete stop she went to the phone and dialed the operator, requesting she be connected to the Watson residence.

This is where the chapter began. It lead up to a phone call that only lasted a minute.

"Dr. Watson speaking." He answered.

"Good evening Doctor." She sighed.

"Why good evening Mrs. Hudson!" he said, a smile obviously planted on his face, recognizing her voice, "fancy you calling." He laughed.

She only nodded, "Yes. I just wanted to know if Lestrade had contacted you yet?" she asked.

There was a few seconds of silence before he replied, "No. I told him yesterday that I was taking this day off to have lunch with Mary. Why?"

"Oh, well, he might be calling you soon. Mr. Holmes has discovered another body." She muttered, leaning her body to the side so she could look up the stairs at his office door.

"Another? Already? Hm. Odd." He muttered.

"That's what I was thinking. I don't know how it happened, but it must've happened dramatically, Ms. Rogers does not look too keen at the moment." She explained, then turning her head to look at the kitchen door.

Watson let out a sigh, "Wonderful. Oh—a knock at the door. Perfect. Right on time. I must be going Mrs. Hudson, I have a feeling that is Lestrade at the door."

Mrs. Hudson nodded, hearing the knocking through the earpiece.

"All right Doctor. How about after they speak with you, you and Mary come over for dinner? I'm sure it would brighten everyone's spirits."

"Oh…well…I don't see anything wrong with that. I shall speak with Mary. Good bye Mrs. Hudson." He said politely before hanging up the phone.

That is when she picked up the plate again and took it to the kitchen, where Matilda sat idly by the oven. She seemed to be falling asleep, leaning on her good hand. She wasn't going to dare tell Mrs. Hudson about her left hand, or Watson.

The only person she was determined would know was herself, because she felt the pain, the mystery woman, because she caused the pain, and Holmes, because he was unfortunate enough to find out.

Though, it seemed odd to her that he rubbed her hand. Like it was normal to rub someone's hurting hand. The ride home didn't consist of any talking, so the hand rubbing was out of the question for thought. She had time and silence to think about other things.

"Are you feeling all right now? Nice and warm?" Mrs. Hudson asked, walking over to the counter, pulling out a cutting board for that night's dinner.

Her head snapped up and looked at Mrs. Hudson with wide eyes, not from terror though. She was just staring like that before.

"Hm? Oh! Yes, thank you."

Mrs. Hudson quirked a brow and her eyes darted up and down Matilda's figure. Her dress had gathered a small puddle of water on the floor, and probably on the seat she sat upon.

She set the cutting board down and leaned on it with one hand, the other was glued to her hip.

"Would you like another dress? You would feel more comfortable." She asked, staring at the skirt of the dress, which was beginning to wrinkle.

Matilda looked at her again and then down at the dress, beginning to laugh. She nodded and stood up.

"Oh, I should probably do that. I have another one upstairs." She giggled, stretching her arms up to the ceiling. She stiffly walked through the kitchen door, not moving her arms and, seemingly, not bending her knees.

Mrs. Hudson just rolled her eyes, not understanding what was going on, but not bothering to ask. She just pulled out some vegetables and began to chop them up silently.

Out in the hallway, Matilda was having difficulty trying to find a way up the stairs. She didn't dare move. She was already cold and soaked; she didn't want to feel the mush of her dress against her knees or the back of her calves. She cringed at the thought. Like she was hearing nails scrape against a chalkboard.

But, nonetheless, she had to get upstairs somehow to change, and it wasn't going to work by walking like a wooden plank. So, sucking in a deep breath, she lifted her chest up high, lifted the hem of her dress off of the ground, and ran up the stairs. She swung around the banister, flying past Holmes and Watson's offices and then ran up that flight of stairs as well.

Almost instantly, like a child jumping into bed to avoid the monster under it, she lunged through her doorway so she could shut it and strip off all of her wet clothing. She stumbled in and grabbed the door, immediately pushing it closed with a loud BANG.

By the time Watson and Mary had arrived, Matilda had just finished brushing her hair out until it was dry. Like her personal way of air-drying it faster. She heard the front door open and close and she quirked a brow, staring at herself in the mirror, and then looking back at her doorway.

She took one last swipe at her hair with her hairbrush and stood to rush downstairs. She ran just as fast as she had run up them, though it was much less tiring.

She had made it to the second floor, standing at the top of the stairs when she saw Watson and Mary hanging their coats up.

"Good evening Matilda!" Mary called sweetly, waving to her. Matilda lifted her hand and waved.

"Good evening! Are you here for dinner?" she asked in reply, and Watson nodded.

"Yes, actually. Mrs. Hudson invited us—"

"We thought it was a wonderful idea." Mary chimed in.

"—And we thought, why not? Now where is Holmes?" he asked, looking around expectantly. Matilda hooked her thumb over her shoulder at his office door. Watson only nodded and rested his hand on the small of Mary's back.

"Come. Let's help prepare the feast." He smiled at the two of them before leading his fiancé into the kitchen. Matilda smiled and stared at the kitchen door, just as Mrs. Hudson had done, and waited until it came to a stop.

Her head hesitantly turned around to gaze at Holmes' door. She pressed her lips together.

_I better not go in there again._ She thought to herself, turning away from it. _But…I don't need to go inside to tell him that John is here…maybe just a knock._

She quickly took a step back and lifted her fist to the doorway. She knocked on it mechanically and set her hand back down at her side.

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes? John and Mary are here for dinner…you know? John? John Watson?" she asked, pressing herself to make sure that she said his name multiple times; just so he could get the picture.

She didn't her anything. Not a creak or a step or a shuffle or a cough. Just silence. She threw her head back and stared at the ceiling, slumping her shoulders and hunching her posture. She waved a hand at the door in defeat and gracefully spun back to the steps.

Then there was a creak. She stopped and stared down at her feet.

"Rogers?" A whisper came.

Matilda jumped and looked back at the door, which was cracked open. She stared at one eye that just stared at her wildly.

"Oh good. It's you. Wonderful. Just who I needed." He said, fast lightening, opening to door. He stood up straight, one arm behind his back, the other holding the door open.

She looked around awkwardly.

"…And why is that?" she asked, swallowing down a pocket of air nervously, not liking his excited town.

"Just for a question. Or two. Or three. It's for the case." He said matter-of-factly, his tone still excited, but his face completely blank except for a smirk.

She just slowly nodded, her eyes darting around wildly.

"Okay…."

"What did the woman look like?"

"…The woman?"

"Yes. The woman. The woman you chased."

"Oh. Um. She had…long, dark brown hair…red lipstick…she was wearing men's clothing. I don't remember what color—"

"No matter. I just need her face." He said, cutting her off.

She stared at him.

"Well…okay…she uh…her nose was…um…." She muttered, trying to remember, feeling uncomfortable at how he was staring at her, maniacally almost.

"Did she have a nose like yours?"

"Like mine?"

"Yes. Small, round, much like a pigs?"

"I—she—no…wait, excuse me?"

"Was it long and slender? Rather pointy?"

"Maybe—"

"Was it, or not?"

"Maybe—"

"Did you even see her nose?"

"Yes! Yes it was long and slender and pointy and not like mine! What is this all about?" she shrieked, feeling hounded, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed in, overwhelmed.

His smirk grew and he slightly bowed.

"Thank you. You may go." He said, spinning on his heels and walking back through the door.

"Wait! John's here for dinner—you should come downstairs!" she demanded.

"I shall come down when I am hungry. And I am not hungry." He called over his shoulder.

She marched after him, but was greeted by a door to the face. Her mouth hung open in awe and she stamped her foot.

"How rude!" she growled through gritted teeth. She shook her head and rubbed her temple. She took the first few steps hard, stomping on them.

She lifted her finger and called over her shoulder as if she was talking to the door.

"I have never been frustrated so easily by someone! Especially not an adult! That, Mr. Holmes, is saying something." She growled, knowing she was very much overreacting. He seemed much too out of his mind to know what he was even asking. Or maybe he wasn't out of his mind, and he was purposefully trying to annoy her. Either way she let him win, unfortunately.

The kitchen door opened and Watson stepped out.

"Matilda, what are you yelling about?" he incredulously laughed, staring at her oddly as she trumped down the steps.

"Nothing. The air. I'm yelling at the air. The annoying, rather bipolar air." Matilda said, holding onto the railing and glaring down at her feet before pushing her hair out of her face to look at him tiredly.

He quirked his brow at her, "The air." He muttered, with a nod.

She nodded back and smiled.

With a shrug and a blink she muttered, "Yes. The air."

Another few seconds passed of his just staring at her and he smiled. He patted her shoulder and directed her towards the kitchen.

"Don't take this to offense, but I did always suspect you to go crazy at some point." He laughed as he pushed open the kitchen door for her. She laughed and nodded.

"No offense taken. I suspected it too…just not this soon." She muttered the last part to herself, not allowing Watson to hear her. He had already walked to Mary who was sitting at the table across from Mrs. Hudson. Both of the women were drinking tea and laughing.

Watson touched Mrs. Hudson's shoulder and sat down next to her, getting her attention. She smiled at him and then at Matilda.

"Dinner will be ready soon." She assured them, pushing herself out of her chair to check the warm oven.

Matilda smiled and nodded before making her way to the chair next to Mary's.

"Good evening Mary, it's nice to see you again." She smiled.

"Good evening! How was your first night here? Was it scary?" Mary teased, snickering to herself. Matilda snorted and shook her head.

"Surprisingly no. I slept quite well. Mr. Holmes' came home rather late, but it wasn't really a bother." She said reaching for a cup and the pitcher of tea on the table. Watson crossed his legs and his arms at the same time, just nodding as she spoke.

"Wasn't a bother? How nice, you hear that darling? Holmes was quiet when he came in last night." Mary smiled poking Watson's arm. He nodded and smirked to himself. Matilda tried not to smile and averted her eyes from him to Mrs. Hudson who walked up to the table with four plates.

"Are you talking about Holmes? What do you mean he wasn't a bother? That was the loudest I had ever heard him walk around, especially at night. Especially when he had come up to the third floor? Now _that_ was odd." She pointed out, looking all of them straight in the eye, pointing her finger at them all, matter-of-factly.

Watson looked at Mary who shrugged and turned to Matilda, expecting her to expand on the subject. She just stared back, her eyes wide. She didn't know what to say.

"Third floor?" Watson asked, leaning forward to look at Mrs. Hudson. She wiped her hands on her apron vivaciously and nodded her head.

"Yes, yes."

"Why was he up there?"

"I don't know. The only rooms up there are our rooms, so I wouldn't know why he would have the need to come up to that level. He was up there for a while too. And he certainly did _not_ come into my room." She laughed, walking back to the oven to open it and reveal their dinner.

Mary's brows raised, her eyes still on Matilda, whose eyes were darting around wildly. Watson shifted in his seat to look at her skeptically, his eyes narrowed. Matilda shifted in her own seat and straightened out her dress, crossing her legs nervously.

Matilda looked at Mrs. Hudson who had set a large ham down on the counter on its silver tray.

"…What are you implying?" she asked awkwardly.

Mrs. Hudson looked over her shoulder and her eyes searched around.

"I'm not implying anything." She chuckled.

Watson uncrossed his legs and arms and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Matilda."

Matilda spun to look at him, her hair whipping around her head, "What?"

"Was Holmes in your room last night?"

"What—no! Well—possibly, but only for a short while—I was asleep!" she finally protested defensively. Watson smirked and shook his head.

"You were not asleep. I know you are a light sleeper. Even the chime of a clock down the street could wake you!" he laughed and Matilda turned pink in the light of the oven.

"I was asleep, I tell you! He must've thought…that I was you or something." She added, hinting at the truth. The sleeping was the lie the mistake was the truth.

Watson quirked a brow and Mary looked at him, her face stuck in the same position; brows raised, mouth pursed, eyes wide and watchful. He just shook his head and sat back in his chair, crossing his legs yet again to get comfortable.

"He couldn't have. He's known that I've moved out, so you have no need to make that kind of excuse." He chuckled, swiping dirt off of his knee. Matilda rolled her eyes.

"But I'm not lying! He called me by your name today! At the crime scene!" she pointed out defensively.

Mary rubbed her temple and smiled sweetly, shifting in her chair. "Can't get any more conclusive evidence then that." She muttered.

Watson shook his head, "Holmes would find better evidence."

"I know darling, but I am not Holmes. And that is quite conclusive. Mistaking her for you twice?" she asked, waiting for his answer. When it didn't come she continued, "It's going to take time for him to get used to the idea of our marriage, to you leaving, to _me_ even being here. Not to mention Matilda replacing you."

Matilda shifted in her seat. "I agree. I probably shouldn't have come. He expects you to come back to work immediately after you get married. He doesn't expect to keep me here for longer then a week." She shrugged, trying not to sound negative about her presence.

"Don't say that. He will get used to everything, it just takes him time to cope. And until then, I say we drop this subject and have some of Mrs. Hudson's beautiful ham and potatoes!" he said smiling and clapping his hands together, prepared for a feast.

Mary just nodded and lifted her cup into the air, "I agree!" she cried before sipping her tea.

They all just laughed and prepared the table to look acceptable. They arranged the plates, silverware and cups at each chair and set the food down in the middle of the table, the steam all gathering above it all. Watson helped all three women into their seats and then retired to his own, smiling and sighing contently

Each person dug into a separate dish at the same time, beginning to chat and laugh with one another. None of them heard a door open and slam close.

Soon, though, the clanking of dishes and the hum of satisfied mouths drowned their talking out. Mary stopped eating for a moment to listen, her chewing even stopped. She could hear fast and hard footsteps going up and down the stairs.

She reached over and patted Watson's hand.

"Dear, I think Holmes has decided to drop in for dinner." She muttered as the footsteps descended the steps yet again and walked around the front hall. Watson gazed at the door, squinting at it, expecting Holmes to walk in at any moment.

And then he did.

He pushed his way through the kitchen door and strode right past them, his head held high and his stature tall and sure. He squeezed his way behind the counter, his back to all of them as he began to search drawers and cabinets for something.

Matilda and Mary looked at each other worriedly before looking at Watson who was still squinting at him. Mrs. Hudson just stared at her plate, her jaw cocked, prepared to spin around and throw her fork at Holmes' neck.

Instead, she just spun around and glared at him.

"Holmes, you do realize that this is my kitchen. Those are my utensils and that is my personal space. What do you think you're doing?"

Holmes didn't answer. He bent down and disappeared from their sights, but they could all still hear his rummaging through the cabinets. Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes and continued to eat her food. Watson shook his head and spoke up.

"Holmes!" he called.

"Yes, Watson!" Holmes' muffled voice replied from below the counters. Watson sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing? You're interrupting dinner, not to mention going through Mrs. Hudson's things."

"They are not her things, they are for the public! She is not the only one that cooks!" he called again, his voice sounding strained as if he was moving something heavy.

Mary's eyes widened and she looked at Watson, not liking the sound of his statement. She didn't want to know he was actually cooking something up, chemical or edible. Matilda just lightly rubbed her left hand; it still hurt and was finally beginning to bruise.

"Holmes, that's not the point. What—what are you looking for?" Watson finally asked exasperatedly. Holmes stood up and looked around. He was still empty handed.

"Just a utensil. A sharp, pointy, dangerous utensil." He shrugged before dropping down to the ground again and searching.

"A knife? You're looking for a knife?"

"Or scissors, which ever I find first. It appears as though I don't have either of them in my study." He called. Matilda shook her head.

"Why would you need either of those? Whatever it is you're doing, can't it wait until later? We're trying to eat!" she protested.

He didn't reply, just kept searching. They heard clanging and bangs as he pushed things around and knocked other things over. Mrs. Hudson did her best not to react. Matilda rolled her eyes and followed in Mrs. Hudson's footsteps, she just kept eating.

"AHA!" Holmes called, holding his arm up. His hand contained a pair of kitchen sheers. Mrs. Hudson dropped her silverware onto her plate with a clang.

"Don't you dare Holmes! Those are my perfectly good, brand-new kitchen sheers! You are NOT using them for some experiment!"

"Oh nonsense Nanny. I only need them for a short while, just to cut some string and fabric." He shrugged, standing up straight and walking around the counter, rubbing his thumb up and down the handle of the sheers gently. He was smirking down at it playfully, Mary and Matilda watching him.

Watson stood up when he noticed Holmes walking his direction. He stared from the sheers to Holmes, not knowing what was going to happen. He glared at Holmes and clenched his jaw. Holmes stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out 4 folded papers, holding them out to Watson.

"Go on. Take them. They're your earnings." He said matter-of-factly, his eyebrows rose in expectation. Watson peered down at them and took them slowly, slipping them out from between Holmes' fingers. Holmes' hand though, shot out and snatched the papers back.

"You know. I think I shall keep these with me. You can't be trusted with money before your wedding. Especially when you have such a budding socialite for a fiancé." He said gesturing to Mary as he stuffed the papers back in his pocket.

Matilda ran her hand over her forehead and stared at the pocket. She let out a sigh as Mary's mouth slightly dropped open and Watson glared at him.

As she stared at his pocket, she noticed there was another bulge in his waistcoat. Like he was storing something in a hidden pocket. She cocked her head as her eyes narrowed on the bulge and she hesitantly reached out for it with her left hand, her right was clutching her knee, squeezing it tightly.

She slipped her hand into the pocket and wrapped her fingers around a small vile. She paused before slowly pulling it out of the pocket, making sure to take it out as he animatedly spoke to Watson.

"I can take care of the gambling's myself Holmes."

"No, I don't believe you can. You haven't been right in the head lately. You've been losing yourself lately. Earlier today at the crime scene you seemed unsure and quite jumpy. Usually you're very calm and collected."

Watson rolled his eyes, "Holmes I wasn't even _at_ the crime scene!"

Holmes stopped for moment, looking up at the ceiling to think.

"…I think you're right. No wonder something didn't seem right." He muttered, furrowing his brows and gazing around awkwardly.

Matilda stared down at the half empty vile of clear liquid. It was closed with a cork, so she did her best to pull it out. She held the cork between her fingers and she took a whiff of the liquid and coughed. She plugged her nose.

"What is this? This smells horrible!" she gagged and held the vile away from her face. Mary squinted at it.

"Yes, what is that?"

Holmes looked over his shoulder and saw the vile.

"You—you stole that from my pocket. Give it here." He demanded quietly, holding out his hand. Matilda sniffed it again and stood up, backing away so he couldn't reach for her.

"This smells like…cocaine? You drink COCAINE. This is for eye surgery!" Matilda laughed as Holmes followed her, his arm extended, waiting for her to hand it over.

"That is my property. I would appreciate it if you would give it back." He said quietly, sounding calm and collected. His face didn't show anything otherwise. She kept it away from him and looked at Watson.

"Did you know about this? I don't think this is healthy." She snorted as Holmes tried to reach out for it. She pulled it away and Watson nodded.

"Unfortunately yes."

Holmes' hand shot out and grabbed Matilda's left hand, the one holding the vile. She let out a shriek of pain from his grasp. He quickly let go and the vile dropped to the ground. They both jumped back as it shattered against the floor. He stared down at the pool of liquid, his mouth hung slightly open, while Matilda held her hand close to her, staring at it again like a wounded puppy.

Watson stared from the vile to Holmes to Matilda. Mary stood up and walked to Matilda, taking her hands gently. She gasped as the bruising on her hand.

"Matilda! You have bruises!" she gaped, turning to Holmes who was rubbing his jaw. Watson rushed to her side and stared at the rectangular shaped bruise, caused by the heel of the boot that stepped on it.

"That's all right. I have more upstairs. Nanny, would you be so kind as to clean this up? I don't enjoy the notion of medication splattered on my floor." Holmes chimed in, standing straight and folding his arms behind his back. He squeezed past the group and entered the front hall.

"How did this happen?" Watson asked.

"It was…at the crime scene. I was chasing someone and I fell, then they stepped on my hand. That's all. Mr. Holmes must've forgotten!" she said, defending him for no reason, knowing Watson was already on the wall about Holmes at the moment.

Watson though, squeezed past the girls and into the hallway after Holmes. Mrs. Hudson stood from her chair and examined Matilda's hand.

"Ladies, my hand is fine! Don't worry! It's just some bruising!"

"Well you should have mentioned it, we would've gotten ice for you earlier. Besides, Holmes acted as though he didn't even know about it." Mrs. Hudson said leading Matilda to the sink to wash her hands.

"But he did! He even rubbed my hands! I don't know why…but he definitely knew!" she protested. Mary shook her head.

"I agree with Matilda. Holmes is not stupid, he knew. Just let him think he didn't know, that's what I say. Let's just see if anything else is wrong with your hand and we'll finish eating." Mary said quietly, wiping off Matilda's hands with a rag and leading her back to the table to look at Matilda's fingers and palm.

"Nothing was wrong, just bruising and soreness." Was Mary's conclusion.

Matilda could hear Watson quietly talking with Holmes out on the stairs.

"And you didn't mention her hand, why?"

"Because it did not come up in conversation. And neither did the case, come to think of it. I've only been down here for a short while. And you know that I thought she was you while we were at the scene." Holmes shrugged.

"You knew it was her. You just wanted me to be there. And I would've Holmes, don't get me wrong, but now that I'm getting married, I have _other_ priorities. Like my fiancé, and my doctoring job! I can't be by your side 24/7 anymore." Watson replied.

"It is not my fault that you cannot manage your time and continue to work with me." Holmes shrugged.

"And it is not my fault that you cannot accept that Matilda will be staying here until I _can_ have time to come back and work full time. I don't know how long that will be, but she will be here, and that is that. Make sure to mention these things beforehand Holmes." Watson lectured.

Holmes' jaw clenched and he looked Watson up and down as he turned to walk back down the stairs. Once his feet had landed on the floor and he was turned in the direction of the kitchen, Holmes called down.

"Can you hand me my coat and hat?" he asked, as he also trudged down the steps. Watson looked over his shoulder at him and barely reached for Holmes' coat and hat on the coat hanger. He tossed them to his friend and watched him with an unhappy smirk. The coat slipped onto Holmes' arms and the hat fell upon his head.

Mary was leading Matilda out into the front hall as Holmes opened the door, "I'll be going out again. Nanny! I won't be home until late. Save me some of the ham you've prepared. It looks lovely." He called.

Mary rolled her eyes and patted Matilda's shoulders. Matilda stared at the doorway tiredly and yawned.

But the door didn't close completely. Holmes stuck his head back inside.

"Rogers."

"Hm?" she replied quietly.

"Did she have blue, gray eyes? Like storm clouds?"

"You mean, not like my green ones, which somehow resemble weeds? Then, yes, probably." She said for him, not allowing him to get a chance to somehow insult her.

He looked at her with eyes full of emotion again. He just nodded, "perfect. Thank you."

The door slammed behind him and Watson rubbed his forehead, letting out a sigh.

"I will never understand him."


	8. Declined

**So much time, and yet nothing seems done.**

**How disappointing.**

**But that's all right.**

**I've got this to update here on FF, and then I've got other stuffs to do.**

**I have so many other fan fics that I realize that I want to do on here.**

**SO many.**

**I know I have to do it one at a time though.**

**So this one, a couple more times, maybe update Ghostbusters, then once I find a way to finish these two, I move onto POTC and The Boat That Rocked.**

**Two FABULOUS films (or, for one, a trilogy).**

**But enough about that.**

"I promise you Lestrade, I have not seen Mr. Holmes for almost 3 days….Yes, we will contact you if he shows himself….No, I…I don't think harming him is best….I'm sorry….Yes sir. Goodbye sir." Matilda said exasperatedly into the phone.

For three days, Holmes had been gone. He had not stepped through the doors of 221 Baker Street since she, Mrs. Hudson, Watson and Mary had seen him two nights prior. Along with the constant calls from Lestrade about the case, Watson had taken up the liberty to occasionally calling for an update.

Every call came up short; each time, no new news was given. The same was always said as well, "No, he is not home yet". Then Watson would sigh and give his thanks.

"I'm sorry John…I don't know when he'll be home."

"No one ever will….." he said with a chuckle. Matilda couldn't help but smile when he chuckled absent mindedly.

"What are you giggling about?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing of importance. You just reminded me of a mother…as if Holmes was your child. I'm sorry, but Holmes cannot come out today, he did not finish his vegetables at last nights dinner!" Watson mocked, doing his best, and shyest, impression of an older woman.

Matilda burst out in giggles and covered her mouth quickly to keep them muffled. Mrs. Hudson had seemed to be alert to any type of positive emotion, expecting Holmes' footsteps, Holmes' voice, Holmes' scent and Holmes' physical self appearing along with it.

Watson finished his laughing and let out a sigh, "You know, I shouldn't really be worried. He has been gone longer then this before. But what I find odd is that he's disappeared during a case."

"John, please, don't use the word disappeared. What if he actually _has_ disappeared?" she sighed, her smile dropping.

"He has not disappeared Matilda. He'll be back." Watson said reassuring, sounding like he was assuring himself along with Matilda.

Matilda sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. Following his words, there was a silence. Quite an eerie one at that.

"I'm only…wondering where he could be staying. Where he could be sleeping at night." Matilda finally said, not knowing what else to say to relieve the silence. Watson did not reply immediately though, so the silence had commenced again.

She suddenly heard him suck in a breath.

"You know…why didn't I think of it before…I think I know where he could be." He said, sounding relieved, sounding like he had an epiphany of godly sorts. Matilda sucked in a breath.

"Really? Perfect! Where is he?" she said, getting to the point.

Watson was silent for a moment again, but she could hear shuffling like he was getting his coat and hat and scarf.

Matilda waited on baited breath. She didn't know why she was so worried, or in this case excited, about Holmes being found after being lost. When he had actually left she had expected him never to come back until she had gone back to Salisbury; and she wasn't too far from stepping onto that path. He had made a few insults, and only a few is all it takes to get to Matilda, to bring her down. 'Easily emotional' as her father called her. At one point he had felt comfortable, or so she thought, and then suddenly he didn't seem to like looking at her in general.

"He could be at the pub, where he fights." Watson suddenly piped up, sounding out of breath.

"Fights? He _fights_. With who?" she gasped, her eyes darting around, picturing Holmes taking a punch or two at some large man before getting smashed down to his knees.

"Anyone. Anyone who will have a go at him. Then everyone people place bets, Holmes wins, and there are a few disappointed betters." He explained, saying it matter-of-factly.

Matilda opened her mouth to say something, but closed it. She opened it again, and closed it. She was beginning to think she looked like a fish.

"Well…fighting…that just sounds barbaric!"

"No matter for that now, I must go and fetch him. I'll bring him home by time for dinner. I must go now." He said and Matilda shook her head, knowing he couldn't see it.

"John I want to go! I want to go and get him!" she said abruptly.

Watson chuckled and stayed quiet, sounding a little astonished. "Well—wait—you can't. That pub is dangerous, and I'm positive women are not allowed. And besides that, Holmes would—"

"Not want to see me? That's fine. We can get him and I can inform him that I will no longer be working for him…you know…to satisfy him." She said rubbing her arm. Around the corner, in the doorway of the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson stood to listen, trying not to poke her head out as she heard Matilda shift her weight.

She could only hear silence, knowing Watson was speaking to her. Matilda was just listening, as Mrs. Hudson was, just breathing carefully, almost silently. Mrs. Hudson's feet began to hurt and she ignored the urge to shift her weight onto the other foot, or to lean on the door jam.

"John, it's what he wants. He does not desire to work with me, and so I should respect his wishes. Besides, I have many things I must do to prepare for next years teaching schedule." She said, sounding a little despaired about going back to teach.

Watson's voice was speaking into Matilda's ear. Mrs. Hudson could only, again, wait for Matilda's answer. At first she only received a laugh.

"Teach here? John you know I cannot do that…teach _him_? What do I have to teach him? He's a nationally known genius—he's a private consulting detective! John that sounds absolutely…." Her voice trailed off.

_The doctor must be talking._ Mrs. Hudson thought to herself.

"It still makes no sense. I am technically under Mr. Holmes, and I should respect his opinion. And his opinion is that I should not be here! I have taken your job, I have set out a line and he is not biting it. I must go home."

Mrs. Hudson took one cautious step out, peeking down the hall at Matilda who stood at the table with the phone in her hands. She was wearing a dress that Mrs. Hudson had let her borrow, a dress that looked tailored for her: a light gray dress with black and white lace, trailing up Matilda's neck. A purple pendant stuck to the neck of the dress. Mrs. Hudson remembered that she had not worn that dress for some time, especially once she had begun working for Holmes.

"…Thank you for respecting that John…I feel so pitiful…why? Well, because I've barely survived a week with him and yet I can last a whole year with a class full of rambunctious six year olds….Yes, that is true, Mr. Holmes is very much like a six year old." She muttered into the phone.

Mrs. Hudson took another step forward, further into the hall. Matilda began playing with her hair, pulling at curls that cascaded down the middle of her back between her shoulder blades from a waterfall of dirty blonde, thinning into one final curl.

"Can I go? I would rather give him my resignation form when he is at his happiest." She said with a little snicker, as if Watson had told a joke.

"All right. I will see you soon. Good bye." She smiled, setting the phone down, and then setting the earpiece down on the receiver.

Matilda let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead. Mrs. Hudson stepped forward with her hands folded in front of her smiling.

"Would you like some paper and pen? You cannot write the resignation letter with just air…and Mr. Holmes will not be able to read your mind." She laughed. Matilda jumped with a gasp and let out a laugh.

"Oh, haha, thank you. Yes, please." She muttered, following Mrs. Hudson up to the stairs.

"I'm sorry that you've decided to leave. I did enjoy your company very much." Mrs. Hudson smiled and Matilda looked at her sadly.

"Yes, I'm sorry as well. I just feel as though teaching is my forte. We have barely gotten into the case and I haven't seen something too interesting, I have had my hand smashed and I have been insulted by my superior. I would much rather have my hair pulled small children." She chuckled and Mrs. Hudson nodded.

"I cannot help but agree."

"Then why do you not leave as well?"

"Leave? I could never do that. I feel as though I am needed here. I feel as though Holmes would not be able to survive without me cooking and cleaning." She laughed and Matilda nodded.

They made it to the third floor and Mrs. Hudson walked into her room to pull out a pen and a piece of brown parchment. She handed it to Matilda and shut her door behind her.

"There you go. Go downstairs and begin writing. I will pack your things for when you arrive back." She said respectfully before leading Matilda back downstairs so she could write it in the warm kitchen.

Watson arrived at the doorstep, knocking, watching his breath escape into the air as fog and then dissipate before his eyes. It was a rather cold evening.

To his surprise, Matilda opened the door instead of Mrs. Hudson. Matilda already had on her gloves, coat and hat, wearing the same gray dress Mrs. Hudson had been thinking about before. She grinned when she saw him on the other side of the door.

"Are you ready?" he asked with a shiver and she nodded, stepping out and pulling the door closed behind her.

"Of course."

"Do you have your resignation letter?" he asked, reminding her. She nodded, pulling it out of her jacket pocket.

"I do."

With a nod he held out his arm for her to take and he led her down the steps and down the street. She examined all of the couples walking around in the dim evening light and the dirt road with the carriage tracks. The lack of people in the street, compared to the daytime, seemed haunting and intimidating for an odd reason.

Watson turned her onto a smaller street that no one could really consider an alley way. She stared around at the walls this time, looking at each individual brick. Watson also looked around, mainly around trash bins and other things that people could hide behind.

"How is your hand feeling?" he finally asked, striking up conversation.

"Hm? Oh, my hand feels fine. The bruising is beginning to go away, but the soreness is very much gone." She assured him. He nodded and they stepped out of the alley way onto another street, which seemed darker.

He turned her to the right and lead her towards a fat, white, square building; the paint chipping and the windows looking dirty, foggy and dusty. Matilda wrinkled her nose at the sight of it, and she could hear the distant sounds of yelling, screaming, profanity, smashing of bottles and and over all roaring of cheers.

"He's in there?" she asked, saying it quietly, as if she was afraid someone would physically assault her for staring at the place in the wrong way. Watson let out a sigh and nodded.

"He is. And hopefully, we caught him in between fights."

"And why is that?"

"So that we don't have to wait. I want to get in there, and get him out." He said, keeping his eyes fixated on the building. Matilda looked from him to the building and then to the doorway, knowing she had to walk through it and see the devastation of Holmes, laying on the floor bleeding after being beaten down.

Watson took a large step forward to pull the door open for her, guiding her in front of him. "Be careful," he warned as he stepped in after her, trying to keep his voice low, but loud enough for her to hear over all of the cheering and yelling.

When they entered, they stood next to the actual bar on their left, accompanied by a set of stairs. In front of them were tables and then at the far end was a wooden ring, surrounded by a school of men who were falling and jumping all over one another to get a better look.

"This is madness." She muttered. Watson pressed his lips into a thin line and straightened his back, taking long strides towards the ring. Matilda gasped and scurried after him, getting looks from a few men that sat at the tables tiredly, and the man running the bar.

Watson stood on his tip-toes and did his best to look over the top of the crowd, most-likely trying to find a place to push through and find Holmes. When he dropped down to his feet he shrugged and looked to Matilda.

"I can't see him. He must be upstairs. You stay down here." Watson said pointing to the stairs. Matilda just nodded and he rushed to them, stepping up them fervently.

All she could do was stand there and try not to do anything stupid, which seemed hard to do in a place like this. Hesitantly, she took a few steps forward, craning her neck to see over the heads of the rowdy men. When she saw a familiar head she grinned and tried to push through the men.

"Excuse me! Excuse me, please—sorry—excuse me." She said, trying to politely tap them on the shoulder, expecting them to move. Every one of them gave her a dirty look as she tried to squeeze past them to get closer to the ring, expecting him to have a front row seat if he wasn't fighting.

Unfortunately for her, though, he was fighting.

The moment her hands grabbed the railing Holmes had dodged under the arm of some gorilla type man who had bent his knees down so he could take a swing at Holmes, who was much shorter then he. After Holmes caught himself and spun around, he took a few slaps at the back of the man's head, like he was trying to just annoy him. And it was working.

The man took multiple swings at home, most of the time missing, except for a few hits on Holmes' arms or abdomen.

Matilda covered her mouth, gasping and squeaking as he was pushed around more and more, seeming to just lose all sense of where he was. The gorilla man lifted his fist and slammed against Holmes' cheek, sending him stumbling over to the wall by Matilda.

_Now's your time!_ She thought to herself, putting on a smile.

"Mr. Holmes!" she called over the cheering. His hands had grabbed onto the railing, on either side of her own gloved hands. He pulled himself up until he was peeking over the top of it. His eyes were wide but his eyebrows were low, making his eyes look incredibly dark and dangerous.

"…Hello!" she said again, looking at him with a nervous smile. His whole head appeared before her, allowing her to see his clenched jar, his bruised cheek, his bloody nose and his cut lip. Her eyes widened in horror and her smile partly fell.

"Oh…Mr. Holmes…." She muttered, looking at him sadly.

"—Rogers….Why are you here?" he breathed, staring at her like she was a leper now, his eyes turning into a menacing glare. She paused for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her resignation letter.

The cheers began to turn into angry yells and bottles were being thrown. Holmes' opponent was pacing back and forth, staring at Holmes angrily, waiting for him to come back and fight.

"What is it?" he panted again, grabbing it tiredly, his hand moving like jolting gears, almost crushing the paper in his fist.

"It's my resignation letter….Mr. Holmes." She shrugged slightly as he pulled it open, causing the paper to crinkle and crack even further.

"COME ON….GET BACK HERE….FIGHT ME." The man in the ring was yelling, but Holmes slightly ignored him.

He searched through it quietly, Matilda's eyes darting around. Without further warning, they heard a few hard steps and the fist of Holmes' opponent came down upon his spine and he collapsed to the floor, the paper laying on the railing. Matilda let out a yelp in surprise and covered her mouth, her eyes wide in astonishment.

The opponent let out a loud laugh, getting a great cheer from every one of the audience members. The large man looked at Matilda and bowed his head.

"Thanks fo' th' distraction madam!" he laughed, grinning to show his brown teeth. Matilda's hand slowly came away from her mouth and her upper lip lifted in disgust at the sight of him.

Suddenly, another slap came from in front of her as Holmes' hand grabbed onto the railing to pull himself up again. He slammed himself against the wall, staring at her, panting.

"And why—are you—resigning?" he asked, sounding like he had to ask why.

Matilda looked around awkwardly and leaned in closer for him to hear her better, noticing people staring.

"Well…because…you do not enjoy working with me. I have no need to work as your assistant if you don't want me here, and if John truly is capable of doing it himself." She shrugged.

His eyes darted up and down her face and figure before finally resting on her hand, when his breath seemed to slow.

"How is your hand feeling?" he asked, gesturing with his eyes. Matilda looked down at her left hand hesitantly and stared at it oddly.

"My hand?—it's fine now…you remembered." She muttered staring at him just as oddly as her hand.

He stayed silent, trying to keep himself steady against the railing. Matilda lifted up the paper again, not knowing what else to do.

"Do you accept my resignation or not?" she sighed, sounding desperate for his answer so she could leave.

His eyes began to glaze over suddenly staring at something on her neck. Her eyebrows furrowed and her head slowly turned down to look at the purple gem on the her dress. Confused, she looked up at his face again, and now he seemed to be staring between the letter and the gem intently, like he was thinking. His panting was still loud but it seemed to cease nonetheless.

"…Mr. Holmes?" she asked, but gained no answer.

She stood up straight and looked around the ring, noticing that the crowd was growing restless again. The opponent was also growing restless, yelling incoherently and pacing all over again. She watched the man walk back and forth before suddenly losing it, his face turning red and his teeth bared.

Matilda sucked in a loud breath and pointed.

"HOLMES!" she screamed, pointing at the opponent.

The moment his name escaped her lips, he grabbed the resignation letter, crinkling it in his fist. He spun around swiftly and thrusted the crumpled paper into the opponent's mouth, catching him off guard. His next move was to swing his arm around, connecting his fist to the man's throat, lifting up his foot to kick the man in the abdomen, allowing the man to bend over in pain before he grabbed either side of the mans head to knee him in the nose and finally give one final blow to the man's back of his neck with his elbow. The man went down without a fight and just lay there.

Holmes on the other hand stood there triumphantly, slightly swaying back and forth from adrenaline as the crowd began to hush.

"Weak." Holmes muttered to himself.

Matilda stared at him wide-eyed, completely speechless. She took a step away from the ring, not knowing whether she was doing it out of fear or out of shock, but she took the step. Her heel connected to the floor, and Holmes spun around and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back to him.

"Hey!" she gasped.

"Do not worry. He is fine. I only caused him to choke a little, broke a few ribs and cracked a few new ones, broke his nose and severely injured his neck…it could be, in some way, broken." He muttered, in a assuring tone.

Matilda's eyes widened.

"ONLY? Wha—ONLY? Mr. Holmes—that was my resignation!" she finally pointed out, gesturing to the paper in the man's mouth.

He looked down at the man and nodded.

"Yes, it very much was. And my actions are an answer to your resignation."

"Wha—you're declining it?"

"Yes. You have talent for hearing that could potentially come in handy, and you have seen the face of the woman who you chased. Besides, Watson would be quite disappointed if you left. He wouldn't be very happy with me."

Matilda's scoffed and tried to pull her hand away.

"So you did this for yourself? You complain about me, but you keep me here?"

"As a person, you are tolerable. I'm not comfortable with you being here, and that will some day change. Hopefully. Don't be irrational." He informed her, lifting his index finger matter-of-factly.

She stared at him shocked, wanting to say something else when Watson came down the stairs.

"HOLMES!" he called from the stairs.

Holmes let Matilda's arm go, taking a step away from her. Watson scurried down the stairs and towards them, pushing through some of the men that were still gathered around the ring. The rest had accumulated around the bar.

"Holmes…what happened?" he asked, looking at the man lying in the ring.

Holmes looked at him and shrugged.

"I won." He said simply.

Watson paused before nodding and looking at him oddly.

"All right—but Holmes…what is all the stuff up in the room? You have tens, if not HUNDREDS of buttons and tools up there!"

Matilda stared at Watson, listening to him speak. She turned to Holmes to hear his answer as he grabbed her hand and began to pull her glove off.

"Excuse me." He muttered.

He pulled it off of her fingers and brought it to his face, wiping it off. Matilda's mouth dropped open and she glared at him.

"Holmes, answer my question." Watson demanded exasperatedly.

Holmes pulled the glove from his face and nodded.

"The buttons and tools are for a specific reason, which happens to pertain to the case. And you are obviously here to get me for that reason…am I correct?" he asked.

Matilda just shook her head immediately.

"We came to get you because I was worried…I'm sorry for thinking you wanted to come back." She seemed to grumble.

He looked at her for moment before turning back to Watson.

"It pertains to the case. So if you would like a further explanation, follow me." He said, making his way towards the stairs and up into the mysterious room.


End file.
